


The Freedom of Falling

by AabH



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, Assault, Attempted Murder, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bisexual Mike Wheeler, Gay Will Byers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mike Wheeler Loves Will Byers, Needles, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Prostate Orgasm, Protective Mike Wheeler, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Repression, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Will Byers Loves Mike Wheeler, gentle face fucking, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 94,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AabH/pseuds/AabH
Summary: Modern Day AU: no cannon from the show will make an appearance in this story.Mike spends his free time working at Dustin's coffee shop, Level Up Latte. A visit to the tattoo parlor across the street, Stranger Inks, sets his life in an unexpected trajectory.This story will deal with mature themes including self mutilation, sexual identities, assault, and other mature situations. The tags and rating will change as content is uploaded. Please read tags and proceed at your own discretion.**Will bent over, adjusting his lamp so it illuminated the tattooed portion of skin. He looked at it for a moment before taking Mike gently by the wrist, startling him, and drew Mike’s arm closer to his face. Mike sat still, watching the other man examine the tattoo. He resisted the urge to jerk away when Will ran a finger lightly over the ink and clicked his tongue. Will moved his fingers from the tattoo to bare skin, pressing down on it, almost testing it. What was he looking for? Mike’s fingers twitched at the contact and he focused on watching the other man’s face.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 258
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi chapter, ongoing story focusing on Mike and his developing relationship with the quiet tattoo artist working on him. I'll attempt to upload about a chapter or two a week during quarantine while I have the time to write at my leisure. I really needed a break after writing the Heavy In Your Arms series and I wanted to explore Mike's budding/awakening sexuality and the struggles he deals with because of it. This story is a slow burn but will include dark themes and explicit content. Proceed at your discretion.

“You can go ahead and get me a _medium_ double shot espresso in a _large_ cup, _lite_ ice with lowfat milk. Not _cream_ , not _soy_ , not _whole milk_ , I only want _low fat_. I’m gonna need you to make sure it’s stirred _gently_ , and _five_ pumps of hazelnut. Not four, not six, _five_.” 

Mike waited, a frozen smile plastered to his face as he listened to the woman rattle off her order. Mike knew the order, he’d worked at Level Up Latte since it had opened and had the regulars orders memorized. Thing is, he usually just _made_ the drinks, not manned the register. Dustin was typically the sacrificial customer service lamb, not him. Dustin (God bless him), never seemed to run out of patience for them, never let his smile falter or copped an attitude. Mike was trying, but damn if it wasn’t a challenge. 

He hated when people talked to him like he was an idiot, as if he hadn’t graduated high school with honors and was scheduled to start his second year of med school in the fall. They were so condescending. Mike gritted his teeth, hoping his smile hadn’t dropped as he keyed her order in, tallying up the total. 

“Can I have a name for this order, please?” he asked, preparing to print the ticket. 

“It’s Siobhan. And can you hurry, I’m late for a meeting.”

_If you’re running so late why did you stop for a coffee during the morning breakfast rush?_

“Six seventy five, please,” Mike chirped, typing in Shivaughn, knowing full well that wasn’t how her name was spelled. He’d seen her name printed enough to know how to mangle it _just so_. Mike couldn’t tell a customer off, but he could be passive aggressive and irritate them, even a little. 

“Your prices are ridiculous,” she grumbled, handing him seven dollars. 

_There’s a Starbucks two blocks over._

Mike smiled, reaching out to hand her the quarter back. She didn’t even acknowledge him, just waved dismissively at the tip jar. 

“Have a lovely day!” Mike said, forcing his tone to stay cheerful and upbeat. 

_What a bitch._

Mike sighed, taking a moment to let his customer service persona slip as he turned to hand the ticket to Lucas who rolled his eyes at Mike. Dustin better _never_ get sick again and leave Mike trapped at the register. Mike raised his eyebrows at Lucas and gave a half hearted shrug before turning back to the seemingly endless line of customers needing their caffeine fix. 

“Hi! Welcome to Level Up Latte! Can I take your order?” he asked, settling back into the routine.

It continued like that, droning on and on and on and on. It was so repetitive and mind numbing Mike could have screamed. By the time his shift was over, Mike felt like he needed a coffee himself, an _Irish_ one. He considered if briefly as Lucas slid into the seat across from him, sandwich in hand. Lucas greeted Mike but his eyes drifted over his curly haired friend’s shoulder, watching their shift replacements laughing and chatting behind Mike. 

“Can you believe them?” Lucas asked, chewing his food. “Like, I get it. We’re over. Fine, whatever, but do you have to wear her shirt to a place we all work? We need to get some uniforms in here,” he grumbled, taking another bite. 

Mike glanced over his shoulder. Eyes falling on his coworkers. The girls were smiling, touching each other’s arms as they talked. It was true about the shirt though. Max was wearing a blouse Mike was sure El had worn maybe a week prior. It definitely wasn’t Max’s style and Mike suspected she’d needed a change of clothes and probably hadn’t gone home the night before. He turned away and rubbed his temples. 

He and El had dated pretty seriously for a few years. They got along well most of the time but in the end they’d just been… incompatible. Mike cared about her, thought he might even _marry_ her when the time came, but El, for all her efforts to make it real, was just playing the part she thought she needed to. Fake it till you make it kind of thing. Mike had been hurt of course when El finally got up the nerve to tell him how she really felt. She loved him, she insisted, but she wasn’t attracted to him. Mike hadn’t understood at first. He was conventionally attractive in that eastern european way. He worked out, made sure to take care of himself and his personal hygiene. What was wrong with Mike that El didn’t like? He could change it, he’d been sure of that. When El had looked away, glancing at a pair of girls walking by, Mike understood. 

They’d parted on good terms, Mike moving out of her place without much fuss. El had insisted Mike could stay until he found the perfect place for him, but Mike had politely refused. Dustin could use help paying the mortgage on his townhouse anyway since paying the lease for the coffee shop was making it difficult for him to pay the rest of his bills. Helping Dustin out had been a good excuse for him to move out of El’s place without having to take the time to apartment hunt, have credit checks run, and sign leases. Honestly, the sooner he was out the better. Yeah, Mike was as supportive as he could be given the circumstances, but it still hurt. 

Mike focused on his noodle cup, the pho cold now but still good. Mike shrugged in a non committal manner. He knew the hurt for Lucas was fresher than his own. After all, Lucas and Max had split only a little over a month ago while Mike and El had been broken up for about a year give or take a few weeks. Still, wasn’t it a little soon for Max and El to be spending the night together and swapping clothes? Mike took another bite. 

“You need to get that shit covered up, man,” Lucas continued, indicating Mike’s exposed forearm. “It’s been a year, it’s honestly getting pathetic at this point.”

Mike glanced down at his arm where he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. The world ‘Eleanore’ was tattooed there, big letters that spanned most of the skin, artistic vines curling around it. Mike tugged at his sleeve to pull it down, a little self conscious. He knew it was dumb to get someone’s name tattooed on yourself, but he _had_ though he’d marry her someday. 

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded to Lucas. “I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Why the hell not?” Lucas asked, tapping his fingers against the table in agitation as he continued to watch the girls work. 

“I dunno,” Mike said, searching for an excuse. “It’s hard to follow proper hand washing and sterilization procedures with fresh ink,” he muttered. 

Lucas shot him a look. 

“It’s May. I know you’re not taking summer classes. You wait much longer, you're gonna have to go another year with that thing.”

Lucas had a point. Mike wasn’t hanging onto the tattoo out of hope that El would suddenly change her mind with a ‘Surprise! I’m not gay and I want to spend the rest of my life with you!’ and take him back. Still, addressing it meant, Mike didn’t know, _failure_ of some kind on his part? He shrugged again. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that. There’s a tattoo parlor across the street. We should at least check it out, get some ideas going. Hell, maybe I’ll get some ink too so you don’t have to suffer alone,” Lucas said, shoving another bite into his mouth. 

Mike chuckled at that. Lucas _hated_ needles. It was a phobia he’d carried over from high school when during a blood drive an overly ambitious nurse had attempted to go for a side vein. He’d ended up sticking Lucas at least four times and it hadn’t helped matters that the nurse had _wiggled_ the needle to get the blood flowing. Yeah, Lucas wasn’t exactly a fan of needles. 

“Hey, Lucas, if you want someone to hold your hand while you get a tat, I’m here for you. You don’t have to come up with an excuse to get me inked too. I’ll keep quiet, I promise,” he assured his friend in a very sarcastically concerned tone. 

Lucas rolled his eyes and crumpled up his sandwich wrapper, having finished his food. 

“C’mon dude. Let’s go check it out. I don’t wanna sit here and watch them flirt anymore,” he said, indicating the pair behind the counter. 

Mike was inclined to agree and fifteen minutes later found himself standing outside of the parlor. It had obviously used to be a home before it was a business. There weren’t any of those large windows that let the public look inside. “Stranger Inks” flashed in bright, neon lights above the door, the open sign blinking steadily in one of the small windows. The inside was surprisingly brightly lit and a woman with mousy brown hair and an alarming number of piercings was manning the counter. She looked up, blue grey eyes focusing on the pair as they entered. 

“Hey guys, welcome to Stranger Inks. What are you looking to get done today? Some overused Kanji to impress the sorority girls at the bar? A tribal tat to show off what a man you are? Prince Albert?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows at them. 

Mike stood motionless, taken aback at how she spoke to customers. If he was being honest, he was a little jealous. How had she not been fired? Certainly someone had levied a complaint against her at some point. Management must not have cared and Mike liked her instantly. 

“Prince Albert?” Lucas asked, nudging Mike towards the counter. 

“You know, a nice big ring through the urethra. Or maybe you’re into a Magic Cross? That's two, right through the glans,” she said, a cheeky smile starting to form at her lips. 

Lucas looked like he was going to pass out and the woman looked like she was loving this. 

“Uh, actually,” Mike interjected, stepping forward and saving Lucas. “I’m looking to get a cover up done.”

He laid out his arm wrist up, rolling up the sleeve so the woman could look it over.

“Eleanore, huh? Grandma piss you off?” she asked playfully, chewing her lower lip which was decorated with two studs near the middle, over the chin. 

“Ex girlfriend. It uh, didn’t work out.”

The woman sat back with a nod and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, flashing a multicolored bar that decorated it. 

“Well, I specialize in piercings but I’ve got a guy who can probably help you out. Let me grab his portfolio so you can look it over, see if it’s your style,” she said, searching beneath the counter. After a moment she pulled out a large black binder decorated with various stickers and handed it over. 

“Take a seat, look it over and let me know if you want to get set up with a consultation.”

“Consultation? I can’t get it done today?”

The woman looked at Mike like he'd grown a second head and let out an offended laugh. 

“Today? Seriously? Look, the artist is gonna need to meet you, find out what it is you’re looking for, you know? He’s gotta see if he can even make it happen. Some tats are too dark or too thick to really cover and then you’re just SOL. Once you’ve discussed your options with the artist, he’s gonna wanna do a workup of possible designs for the piece, probably a lot of them. He’s gotta make sure you like what you end up with, it’s gonna be on your body forever you troglodyte. This is gonna take time,” she finished, leaning back. “Today,” she mumbled under her breath, still unable to believe Mike had said that. 

Mike looked over to Lucas, widening his eyes as he picked up the binder. Mike didn’t know it had been such an unreasonable question. When he’d gotten the piece done in the first place it had only taken the span of an afternoon. Lucas just shrugged, still looking a little green around the gills from the genital piercing discussion earlier. The two of them settled into a cushy couch and laid the binder out on the glass coffee table and began flipping through the pages. 

They were neatly laminated and organized, displaying various drawings and the finished results on skin. It was organized by style, black and whites up front, colors in the back. Even those were broken down into further categories. Realistic, cartoon, and the like. It was a lot to take in but based on the range the artist had shown in his portfolio, Mike figured he’d be fine, do a good enough job. Mike closed the binder and returned to the front desk where the woman sat, flipping through a magazine. 

“Want an appointment set up?” she asked, glancing up at him. 

“Yeah, yeah the soonest available,” he said, just wanting this to be done and put behind him. 

The woman reached out her hand, palm up and nodded. Mike looked at her curiously. 

“ID?” she finally said when Mike remained motionless. 

“Oh, uh, okay,” he said, fumbling with his wallet to extract the hard plastic driver’s license. 

He handed it over and the woman pushed her swivel chair back and towards the copy machine. It whirred to life, lighting up and spitting out a paper. When she returned, she handed the original ID back and put the paper copy of Mike’s ID on the counter. 

“Wheeler, huh?” she asked, clicking her tongue again. “Any relation to Nancy?”

“She’s my sister,” he said, returning the ID to his wallet. 

“Hmmm,” she said, clicking open what looked like a calendar app on the computer and started typing. “I remember her. My business partner used to date her back in the day.”

Well, that explained her cavalier attitude towards customers. You couldn’t exactly fire the owner for mouthing off. 

Mike shrugged. 

“She doesn’t keep me up to date on her love life.”

“Yeah well, it was like ten years ago, so I’m surprised I even remember her. Honestly, most of high school has been pushed back into that part of the brain where trauma goes to die,” she said, clicking through a few boxes before settling on one. “Quickest consultation appointment is on Wednesday. Should I pencil you in?”

Mike hesitated. He had to work the dinner shift Wednesday. “What time?”

“Three work for you?” she asked, hands hovering over the keyboard. 

“How long do consultations usually take?” Mike had to be into work as four thirty to relieve Max. 

“Depends. This is art, you know?” she said, eyeing him. “Maybe an hour or so? If you settle on a subject the artist can sketch up a few designs on the spot and work out the kinks later. If you can’t decide that slows the whole process down. I think the longest consultation phase we had lasted a few weeks. Client kept changing his mind and wanted edit after edit, which takes time.”

 _Weeks_? That seemed a little excessive. Mike didn’t think he’d have a hard time deciding, especially if he put thought into overnight the day before. 

“Yeah, three works.”

The woman nodded, typing away. 

“Oooooooookay. You’re booked. We’ll see ya then,” she finished, looking up. 

Her eyes wandered to Lucas who’d been standing back, quietly looking around at the body jewelry displays. 

“What about you? I can get that Prince Albert in you today, right now if you want,” she offered, waggling her eyebrows again. 

Lucas paled, looking a little weak at the thought. 

“That’s okay,” he said, raising his hands in a ‘no thank you’ gesture and stepping back. 

She sighed and flicked her hair. 

“Your loss.”

Mike chuckled and turned to go, Lucas taking the lead, pushing through the tinted door and gulping down fresh air. 

“Do people actually do that? Get a dick piercing?” he asked Mike who shrugged. “God, can you believe her? She was really pushing it wasn’t she? You think she’s into me?” Lucas asked, glancing back at the shop. 

“Yeah, right,” Mike laughed. “She just liked watching you squirm.”

“Hey man, I didn’t see her pushing to get your pants off,” Lucas insisted, punching Mike on the shoulder. 

“Yeah well, you can ask her the next time you see her,” he said, still laughing to himself. “C’mon, let’s grab a drink. I’ve gotta think about what I’m gonna get to cover this up,” he said indicating his arm. 

Lucas agreed and they headed back to the coffee shop to retrieve their cars. 

**

Wednesday came faster than Mike expected and to be honest, he didn’t really feel prepared. This all felt so formal, like he was interviewing (or being interviewed by) the tattoo artist. Yeah, Mike had a couple of ideas about what would look good as a cover up but didn’t have any experience in the matter. It was probably better to just trust the professional on this. 

Mike had parked near Level Up Latte and had just walked across the street to Stranger Inks. He pushed the door open and walked in, glancing at the counter. The pierced woman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a man with the biggest hair Mike had ever seen was clicking away at the computer, looking bored as he browsed the internet. The man looked up as Mike approached, clearing his throat. 

“Hey uh, I’ve got an appointment?”

“Oh hey! Yeah Robin said you’d be coming in!” the man said, rising from his seat and extending a hand. “It’s been a while Mike, how ya been?”

Mike paused, taking a moment to look the other man over. It had been what, ten years since he’d seen Steve? But yeah, behind all the piercings and ink, there he was. Steve fucking Harrington, in the flesh. Mike grinned, clasping his hand firmly and giving it a shake. Steve looked good, happy. Different than he had looked, certainly, but good. On his arm was a sailor moon style tattoo that’s face looked suspiciously similar to Steve’s own. _What was that about?_

“Hey man, it’s been a minute. You own this place?” Mike asked, gesturing around. 

Steve grinned goofily. 

“Oh yeah, Robin and I bought it a few years ago,” he explained, stepping out from behind the counter. 

“Your parents were okay with that?” Mike asked, a little confused. He knew Steve hadn’t gone straight to college after high school but he’d assumed with all that money that Steve would have ended up there eventually. 

“Ha, not really. But they control the trust funds, not the inheritance and I got a good chunk a while back. Robin and I were living together at the time and it was always a dream of hers so, you know,” he said, motioning around again. “Here we are.”

“Oh, are you two, you know,” Mike made a vague gesture. “Together?”

Lucas would be disappointed. 

Steve laughed, a surprised sound. 

“Robin and me? Nah, no way. She doesn’t go for that, ya know?” Steve said, indicating himself and Mike. “Not that I didn’t go for it once, but uh, she shot me down like a dog.”

Yeah, Mike knew all about that. Lucas was gonna be even more disappointed. 

“So, you need a cover up?” Steve asked, leading Mike away from the lobby area towards the back. 

“Yeah, you the artist? I didn’t know you could draw, that’s awesome,” Mike replied, impressed. 

Steve laughed again. 

“No, not me. I’m the books guy, accounting, you know. Nah, Will’s gonna be working on you. Unless you want a piercing done, then Robin’s your girl. We’re a small operation right now but Robin’s got her eye on a second location downtown. She’s got big plans for the future,” Steve grinned. “Here we go,” he said, pulling a curtain back and exposing a private area of the house turned store. “I’ll let Will know you’re here,” he said, stepping away. 

Mike watched him go before settling in to look around. There was a rolling stool pulled close to a desk where a sketchpad and several pens lay in a neat orderly line, a laptop humming nearby. There was also a black leather chair that took up the majority of the work space and looked as though it could recline or fold in multiple ways. Currently, it was adjusted to a simple seated position and Mike sat down, still looking around the room. It was well lit but the art decorating the walls was surprisingly dark. Animals that looked like mutated dogs prowled in a pack, a humanoid creature taller than a man watched from a treeline, and a monster that seemed to have no real solid form and was bigger than Hawkins High rose up, blotting out the sun. 

“That’s creepy,” he whispered to himself, jerking a little when the curtain pulled back again. 

The person who entered was surprisingly clean cut and well… normal looking, maybe even a little nondescript. Slight build, straight brown hair tucked neatly behind his ears and an unusual lack of piercings compared to the other employees Mike had seen, only sporting a single bar through the eyebrow and two thin rings on the left side of his lower lip. He pulled the curtain closed behind him and extended a hand to shake Mike’s. 

“Mr. Wheeler? I’m Will, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mike stood, taking the smaller hand in his and giving it a short, almost tentative squeeze. 

“Nice to meet you too,” he said, settling back down to sit as the man, Will, he reminded himself, pulled out the rolling stool and took a seat of his own. 

“So I hear you need a cover up,” Will started, turning on his desk light. “Can I see what we’re working with?” he asked politely. 

“Yeah, sure,” Mike said, rolling up his sleeve and holding out his arm, palm up, for Will to examine. 

Will bent over, adjusting his lamp so it illuminated the tattooed portion of skin. He looked at it for a moment before taking Mike gently by the wrist, startling him, and drew Mike’s arm closer to his face. Mike sat still, watching the other man examine the tattoo. He resisted the urge to jerk away when Will ran a finger lightly over the ink and clicked his tongue. Will moved his fingers from the tattoo to bare skin, pressing down on it, almost testing it. What was he looking for? Mike’s fingers twitched at the contact and he focused on watching the other man’s face. 

Will was looking at him, well, _at the tattoo_ with intensity. His brown eyes were dilated from the light and they shifted as he turned Mike’s arm over, now looking at the bare skin on the back of Mike’s forearm. Mike had never thought of himself as particularly tan, but he was a bronzed god compared to Will, who’s pale fingers stood out in stark contrast. This whole experience felt a lot like going to the doctor’s office. Will had a soft, unreadable expression as he looked Mike over; he was clinical, detached. The artist finally let him go, sitting back and pulling his sketchbook off the table and settling it into his lap. 

“Okay, I can work with this,” he said, opening the book and tapping his pen against it. “So tell me, Mr. Wheeler, what were you thinking of as a cover up? Whatever it is is going to have to be big, bigger than the original piece which is quite sizable in and of itself. I was thinking of something that could wrap around,” he said, indicating the bare portion of Mike’s skin. “It’ll either have to be darker than the original or very very bright so the colors drown out the piece beneath.”

Mike listened, considering. 

“What do you think?” Will asked again, gently prodding. “How would you like to go with this?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. Maybe a tiger or something?”

“A tiger? You don’t sound sure,” Will said, soft brown eyes meeting Mike’s in a steady, unfaltering way. 

It made Mike a little uncomfortable and he looked away. 

“What would you suggest?” he asked, motioning to Will. “You’ve got experience, what would work?”

Will thought about it, chewing the cap of his pen. 

“Flowers are a very popular choice. Lots of curves and flows that can be easily incorporated into existing designs. They can be bright and beautiful or black and white, subdued and quiet. Either way, easy to work with.”

Mike frowned a little. Flowers? Didn’t that seem a little… effeminate? 

Will seemed to sense his uneasiness and offered another suggestion. 

“Landscapes work well too. They have a lot of the same qualities as flowers that can be interwoven into existing pieces but they don’t stand out so much. Animals can work too if you really want the tiger.”

“Well I’m not like, super attached to the tiger, I could go another direction.”

Will nodded, tapping the pen against his chin. “Do you prefer animals? What’s your favorite kind?”

Mike thought about it. 

“Crows are kinda neat,” he said after a moment. 

“Crows?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re pretty cool. Like, they can recognize human faces and remember if you were nice or cruel to them. If you’re nice, they might even bring you gifts. I read an article about someone who had a group of crows bring them anything shiny including money. Also, a group of crows is called a ‘murder’ so that's pretty cool. They also have funerals for each other. A crow will stand vigil over another for days sometimes. Plus, they can use and even make rudimentary tools to help them solve problems and get food. So yeah, they’re pretty cool,” Mike said, realizing he’d been rambling. 

Will smiled at him, opening the sketch pad. “Sounds like you know a lot about them.”

Mike flushed. 

“Yeah, a little. I mean, I did a report on them for school.”

No way was he going to admit he’d spent the better part of the summer between freshman and sophomore year trying to befriend the crows behind the soccer field (to varying degrees of success). 

Will nodded, pen scratching against the paper. 

“How do you feel about a half sleeve piece?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I’d have to like the art enough to consider doing something that big.”

“Fair enough,” Will agreed, pen still working frantically. 

Mike watched the other man work. He was small, unassuming as he curled up over his sketch pad. His straight brown hair lay neatly and his thin hands flexed as he moved the pen across paper, brown eyes focused on his work. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt so as not to smear ink on it, exposing pale, surprisingly tattoo free skin. Mike watched him for a long time, answering all the innocuous questions Will asked. 

‘What do you do for a living? Any hobbies? Favorite movie? Color?’

Mike finally shifted. 

“So uh, what’s with the third degree?” he asked, offering a smile. 

Will glanced up, soft eyes focusing on Mike. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I’ve been told I can make people uncomfortable,” he finished, a pale red starting to color his face as he averted his eyes back to the sketch pad. 

Mike quickly shook his head. 

“It’s not that, I’m just curious. Is it like, part of your process or something?”

Will glanced back up, a relieved look on his still flushed face. 

“Yeah, something like that. I mean, when I’m doing a pre-rendered piece I don’t talk so much. But for a custom piece, I want the work to have some personality. If I don’t talk to my clients, find out more about them, then the only personality that comes through is mine,” he explained, hunching forward again, a loose strand of hair falling into his eyes. 

Mike looked around the room again at the creepy artwork. Had Will drawn these? Were they showing his ‘personality’? It seemed weird that someone so soft spoken and unassuming would have such a dark imagination. 

After a few more minutes, Will set down his pen and handed the book to Mike for him to look over. He’d filled five pages with various drawings of birds. Some were flying, a flock moving together. Others were cartoonish with massive talons and eyes. A few sat alone, solitary and watching. Mike examined them, Will's eyes on him waiting for a reaction. Finally, Mike pointed to one of a crow rearing back, extending it’s wings to take flight, talons releasing a branch as it lifted away from the tree. 

“I like this one,” he said, handing the book back to the other man who looked at the chosen sketch and nodded approvingly. 

“Okay. I can do a detailed workup of this and we can schedule a placement and basic inking,” he said, sitting the book on his desk and standing.

“Basic inking?” Mike asked, also rising to his feet. 

“I’d like to do the piece over a few sessions, probably two if that works for you. I want you to have time to heal between sessions. Here, look,” he said, taking Mike’s arm again without asking permission. He ran a finger over the inked skin. “The person who did this was in a hurry. Feel how the skin’s raised? Like it didn’t heal quite right? If I’m gonna do a big piece on you, I want it to be quality. It should add something beautiful, not damage the canvass.”

Mike didn’t know how he felt about being referred to as a canvass, like he was an object, but he supposed it was accurate. Will let his hand drop from Mike’s wrist and stepped past him, brushing against him with a soft ‘Excuse me, Mr. Wheeler,’ and ducked out behind the curtain. Mike followed as Will rounded the corner and stepped behind the desk, tapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve looked up and pushed his chair back, giving the tattoo artist room to lean over and pull up the digital appointment book and tap away at the keys.

“Coming back for more, huh?” Steve asked, leaning to the side to see around Will’s form and look at Mike. 

“Yeah, Will made a great design and we’re gonna go from there,” he replied, grinning. 

“Awesome! That’s what I like to hear!” Steve said enthusiastically slapping Will on the back, nearly toppling the slight man. 

Will steadied himself and cleared his throat and Mike wondered if the slap had knocked the wind out of the smaller man. After a moment, Will looked up, his brown eyes meeting Mike’s own. 

“Mr. Wheeler, I’m going to need a few days to complete the workups. I’d like to do a few different color schemes so we can see what works best with your style and skin tone. Can we say… the 28th?” he asked. 

Mike nodded, making a mental note to request the day off. Will started typing again. 

“Is eight thirty in the morning too early for you?” he asked, glancing up. 

Mike considered. No, not really. If he did an opening shift at the cafe he had to be in at 4:30 to grind the beans and bake the bagels that Dustin had (overly) ambitiously added to the menu. Eight thirty was downright _indulgent_ as far as sleeping in went. 

“Yeah, I’ll bring the coffee,” he said with a nod. 

Will cracked a smile. “One cream, two sugars,” he joked, typing again. 

“It’s a date,” Mike replied, grinning back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will begins his work on the tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter CW: implied self harm/mutilation. Read at your discretion.

Mike paused, balancing the cup holder precariously in one hand as he struggled to open the door to Stranger Inks. The coffee was hot, right around 200 degrees (Mike couldn’t tell if Max had made it extra hot to help him out or if she’d been hoping he’d scald his tongue on it), and Mike did _not_ want to drop four cups of it on himself. Successfully managing to yank the door ajar, Mike hooked a foot inside and propped it open as he shouldered his way past, his second hand returning to the cup holder to stop it’s slow tipping motion. Mike twisted, walking backwards through the now open door and maneuvered through. 

Behind the counter, Steve looked up and started to stand. 

“Hey Wheeler! Need a hand?” he called, striding forward to assist the other man. 

Mike smiled gratefully and offered out the coffees to Steve. 

“I got it. Want one?” he asked, motioning to the steaming cups. 

Steve took one, slightly unbalancing the load and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. 

“Thanks, I needed this,” Steve said gratefully, removing the lip to take a sip and recoiled slightly. “Shit, that’s hot.”

“Yeah, give it a second,” Mike said, offering out the paper bag he’d filled with individual creamer cups and sugar packets. “I didn’t know how you guys took it,” he explained as Steve took a few creamers and what Mike thought was _way_ too much sugar. 

The older man headed back to the counter, motioning Mike to follow. He sat, popping the lid again and dumped the creamer in until it was a pale, almost honey brown. Mike glanced around, not seeing anyone else in the shop. 

“Will around? Robin?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just gonna sign you in and go get Will. Robin’s in the back working on some nipple piercings. It’s buy one get one today,” Steve explained, adding in his ungodly amount of sugar to the coffee. 

“Buy one get one?” Mike asked, taken aback. “People can sit through that?”

That seemed like an awful lot to endure all at once. 

“Oh yeah, this is a college town. Nipples are our bread and butter,” Steve said yawning and typing away at the computer. “Okay, you’re in. Let’s head back and I’ll grab Will.”

Mike followed after setting a second coffee on the counter for Robin, leaving a handful of cream and sugar with it. 

“So, do you have any?” Mike asked, curiosity piqued. 

“Any what, nipple rings?” Steve asked, still leading Mike. “Oh yeah. In fact, last year Robin got me these like, novelty light up rings that look like Christmas tree lights, right? Well, we went bar hopping to celebrate the season and ended up getting booked on public intox charges cause I guess we had a few too many. So anyway, here I am, puke on my shoes, my shirt lighting up like Rudolf at a rave while this cop is trying to administer a sobriety test and can’t stop laughing at me,” He rambled. “So yeah, I’ve still got them. Robin will probably want me to wear them this season to see if we can get a repeat performance. Here ya go,” he said, motioning to the curtain that cut off Will’s work space from the rest of the building. “Will’s gonna be over in a minute,” Steve said, still smiling and sipping his sickly sweet coffee.

Mike entered and looked around, images of Steve Harrington with light up nipple rings dancing through his mind. The station wasn’t as brightly lit as it had been last time so Mike set the two remaining cups down and turned on the desk light. The work area was sparse, the laptop was missing, but a neat stack of papers was laid out and Mike stood next to the desk, flipping through them. 

They were drawings, far more detailed than the one Will had done during the consultation. Some were colored, various themes and tones, tints and shades. They were really good, almost… _pretty_. Mike jerked and set them back down as the curtain was pulled back and Will stepped in, laptop tucked under one arm. He was wearing a light blue button up, almost periwinkle, and faded jeans. His fine, straight hair was brushed back neatly and Will looked up at Mike with eyes the same color as Steve’s coffee had been, _honey_. Mike smiled and extended his hand.

“Hey Will, good to see you again.”

“You too, Mr. Wheeler. I see you’ve taken a look at the workups?” he asked, accepting Mike’s handshake. “Any thoughts?”

“They look great,” Mike said, releasing his hold on the other man’s hand, his own feeling uncomfortably clammy. 

Will smiled, apparently pleased with the feedback. 

“Thank you, Mr. Wheeler,” he said, averting his honey colored eyes and stepping past Mike to his desk. 

Will’s gaze landed on the coffees and he glanced back at the curly haired man.

“One cream, two sugars, right?” Mike asked, motioning to the steaming cups. 

Will smiled again, settling himself onto his stool and plugging in the laptop. 

“You remembered,” he commented, taking a cup and pulling it towards himself. 

Mike felt a flush under his collar and he sat down, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. 

“Yeah well, I work at the coffee place across the street, I’ve had plenty of orders more complicated than yours,” he explained. 

“Oh, Level Up Latte?” Will asked, eyebrows raised in interest. 

“Yeah, my buddy Dustin opened it last year,” Mike said, still touching his neck and trying to force the sudden flush down. “He needed employees so a few of us got together to volunteer our services until it got up and running. Well, once it found its footing we all just kinda stayed since we’re all getting actual paychecks now. It’s kinda great, actually,” Mike finished, still a little red. 

“I hear you,” Will said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and pushing his stool towards Mike. “When Robin and Steve opened this place it was pretty bare bones. The only money was coming from Steve and he’d already paid for all the equipment, and I didn’t want to be a leach. I was Robin’s unpaid apprentice for a long time, surviving on tips and believe me, that can be a challenge when people don’t know how to tip their body artist. It’s nice to be making money that's not dependent on the kindness of others,” he said, pulling Mike’s arm to himself to examine. “I wanna get the stencil on you today and see if we can pick a color scheme that fits with you,” he said, nodding in the direction of the stack of papers. 

Mike stilled at the touch as Will lined up the paper on his arm, wrapping it around to test the position and alignment. Will glanced up at Mike as he worked. 

“This okay? Is it too big?”

“N-no. That’s good.”

“Position okay? Does it feel right? I know you said you didn't know about it wrapping so far around the arm. I can reduce the size and reposition it if you like.”

“Yeah, no, it’s great,” Mike said, ears burning. 

“Fantastic. Let’s get this on you and get started,” Will replied with a smile, beginning to work in earnest; cleaning the skin and applying the stencil to the already inked area.

Mike didn’t know how Will was supposed to see the stencil past the underlying ink but trusted that he could. By the time the machine whirred to life, Mike was relaxing into the gloved touches. Will brought the needle down slowly, drawing an intake of breath from Mike. Will glanced up briefly from behind the mask he'd donned. 

“Try to be as still as you can,” the smaller man said, still working in slow, steady strokes of the needle. 

Mike nodded and tried to relax but his eyes kept focusing on the needle piercing his skin. Will wiped away the excess ink and blood with a towel. Mike twitched his wrist at the contact and Will glanced up from his work. 

“It can be easier on people not to watch,” he explained, meeting Mike’s eyes. “I can turn on a show on the laptop so you have something else to focus on. I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, what do you prefer?”

“Uh, anything, it doesn’t matter,” Mike mumbled, drawing his gaze away as Will pulled back, removing his gloves and tossing them in the trash. 

The other man had rolled up his sleeves again and Mike could see those thin forearms. For the first time, he noticed pale, uneven lines that crossed them. There were more on the underside than the outer. Will turned back, pulling on new gloves as The Office theme started playing. Mike looked away from Will’s arms to focus on the show. 

Will worked quietly, with concentration and intent. He worked steadily for about half an hour before Mike started to zone out. The feeling of the needle piercing skin and the vibrations rattling through him were making his arm go numb and his vision was a little hazy. In fact, Mike was having trouble focusing on the screen and he slumped in the chair a little. Will looked up. 

“Hey, you okay?” Will asked, withdrawing the needle, eyes focusing on Mike’s face instead of his arm. 

“Yeah, mmm fine,” Mike responded, tongue feeling weirdly heavy and sticky, like melted gum. 

“You’re really white,” Will commented, switching the needle off. 

“You’re white,” Mike grumbled back, still having trouble focusing his eyes, words a little slurred. 

“Let’s take a break,” the artist suggested, pulling a glove off and patting Mike on the shoulder, a concerned look crossing his face.

Mike shook his head and batted the hand on his shoulder away. 

“Mmm fine, srssly.”

Will sat back, watching Mike struggle to right himself from his slouched position in the chair. Mike felt sweaty and cold. He tried to focus his vision on the smaller man, who was turning around to reach for Mike’s forgotten coffee. 

“Hey, drink this, I think you’re going into shock,” Will explained. “I want to get your blood sugar up.”

Mike frowned at him. Shock? From a tattoo? Ridiculous, but Mike accepted the cup anyway as Will eased it into his shaky hands. 

“You’re gonna be okay, it’s not uncommon,” Will assured him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I mean, if you think about it, I’m injuring you over and over, your body is just responding the way it’s programmed to. Did you eat today?” Will added, eyes still scanning his client.

Mike shook his head, annoyed and embarrassed at the situation.

“I’m in med school you know,” he slurred out, trying to force his fading vision down as he drank the coffee. “Know what shock is,” he concluded, sweat pooling along his neck and back. 

Will frowned at him again, turning to his desk and shuffling through a drawer. He produced a Luna bar and rolled his chair towards Mike. When he tried to hand it to Mike, the freckled man misjudged and missed the first time. _Oh, my depth perception is off_. Maybe he _was_ going into shock. Mike fumbled with the wrapper, struggling because his fingers felt like he was wearing oversized gloves. Will eventually had to take it back, removing the wrapper for him before returning the Luna bar.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a bite. 

Will stood, resting a hand on the dark haired man’s shoulder briefly, reassuringly. 

“If you’re in med school you know that shocks not something to play around with. Just hang tight, I’ll be right back,” Will said, moving towards the curtain. “You’ll be alright,” he added, pushing through the curtain and vanishing. 

Mike took another bite of the Luna bar, struggling to chew it. He hadn’t eaten yet that morning: Mike’s stomach didn’t usually tolerate food well this early in the day. He made a mental note that he’d either have to force food down or schedule follow up appointments for later in the day, after a time he’d typically had a meal. 

When the curtain pulled back again, Mike blinked up at Robin who was pushing her way inside. She bent forward, looking Mike over. 

“Jesus, Will, what did you do to him?” she demanded as the small man followed behind her. “You okay, Latte Boy?” she asked, trying to get a good look at Mike, his unfocused eyes. 

“Mmm fine,” he insisted despite the dizziness. 

Robin snapped her fingers in front of him, trying to get his eyes to follow her. 

“Shit. Will, help me lift him. Let’s take him to the couch and lay him down so he doesn’t fall out of this chair,” she said, stepping back so Will could squat next to Mike, slipping a shoulder beneath Mike’s arm and hoisting him to his feet. 

Oh, standing up did _not_ feel good. Mike stumbled a little, legs feeling like lead and Will placed a hand flat on Mike’s stomach to steady him. Mike leaned into the touch, vision blacking out for a second. He gripped Will’s arm above the elbow, clenching the fabric of the artist's shirt for support. Mike’s head rolled forward and he could smell Will's cologne. 

_He smells nice_. 

“Robin, help me with him,” Will said, hand still pressed firmly into Mike to help the taller man balance. 

Mike felt Robin lift him under the other arm and then the pair was moving him one slow, excruciating step at a time. He’d expected them to take him to the lobby but it seemed like they were moving deeper into the shop. They passed by curtained off work stations, some more elaborately decorated than Will’s, some barren. Robin detached herself to unlock a back door before ducking inside and helping Will lead Mike to an overstuffed couch and lay him on it. Mike fell into it heavily, eyes closing while he tried to stop his head from spinning. He felt hands lifting his feet and propping them up on what he assumed were throw pillows. Mike was vaguely aware of something being draped over him and Will and Robin muttering to each other. 

“Warm him up, get some fluids in him,” Robin was saying. 

“Okay. I think I have some orange juice,” came Will’s soft reply.

“You okay to take care of this? I left a girl in stirrups about to get her hood done. I need to get back.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Will assured her quietly. 

“Okay, come get me if he gets worse and I’ll call an ambulance,” she said whispered, barely audible. 

Mike didn’t pass out, thankfully. He kept his eyes closed and focused on slow, deep breathing as he listened to someone moving around the room. He looked up slowly as someone pressed a cold towel to his head. Will was looking down at him, holding a glass in his hand. 

“Drink this,” Will instructed, setting the glass down on the coffee table. 

Mike reached out, almost knocking the glass over but Will caught it, setting it in Mike’s hand this time. The curly haired man drank slowly, small sips until his vision cleared and he felt a little steadier. Will sat perched on the coffee table, fingers laced under his chin, elbows resting on his knees, watching Mike. Now that he was more clear headed, Mike felt embarrassed. An uncomfortable, hot flush was rising under his collar and he quickly sat up, making his head swim and vision dance for a moment. Mike took the towel and used it to wipe away the dried sweat and cool his skin where he felt the heat rising, all while under the scrutinizing gaze of the man perched on the table. 

“Feeling better, Mr. Wheeler?”

Mike nodded, avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t believe he’d gone into shock from a _tattoo_ of all things. He inwardly cringed, wondering how many people actually did that. Will had said it wasn’t uncommon but honestly, that wasn’t much comfort. He flushed deeper, using the towel to wipe his face again before speaking. 

“Yeah, a lot better,” he said clearing his throat. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize, Mr. Wheeler,” the other man said, waving his hand. “I should have asked if you’d eaten. Would you like me to call an ambulance?”

“No, that’s not necessary. And uh, sorry about the not eating thing. It didn’t even cross my mind,” Mike said awkwardly, finishing off the orange juice, pulp clinging to the glass. 

“Please, no more apologies, Mr. Wheeler,” Will said again, gaze soft. “Once you’re feeling better, I can finish up the line work, but I’m not sure I should continue working on you.”

Mike felt his heart sink. Was he supposed to walk around with a half finished tattoo? That would be even worse than the original. Plus, he didn’t want to find a new artist. He liked Will, well, liked his _style_. How was he supposed to find an artist who could emulate it and who he liked enough to have working on him? Mike gritted his teeth in frustration, suddenly very angry at his body’s natural reaction to trauma. He clenched his fists.

“At least not today,” Will concluded, sitting up straight, letting his hands drop from where he’d been resting his chin on them. “You need to make sure you’re properly hydrated and eat before we begin. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to break them into shorter sessions than I’d originally anticipated. Of course, there will have to be more than two, making the process longer, so I’d understand if that’s frustrating or you’d like to find a new artist to do the piece in a shorter time frame. I just think I’d be more comfortable with four or so sessions if that works for you, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine,” Mike said quickly, heart crawling out of the pit it had sunken into.

Will smiled at him, honey eyes still soft.

“Well then, I’ll leave you alone for a while. Come back to my station when you feel ready to continue,” he said, rising to his feet. 

Mike looked up at him. The periwinkle shirt was a little rumpled and his hair was out of place from having carried Mike over his shoulder. From what he’d seen so far, Mike didn’t get the impression that Will wasn’t typically disheveled and he felt a sting of guilt for causing it. Everything about Will was neatly put together, a well practiced image. Whether or not it was sincere remained to be seen. 

Will dipped his head in acknowledgement and excused himself through the door he and Robin had led Mike through. Mike watched him go before looking around at his environment. When he’d been brought in, foggy and disoriented, Mike had assumed it was an employee break room of some kind. Now that he could focus, he noted that it looked a lot more, Mike didn’t know, _homey_? It looked more like a flat than anything. There was a kitchen nook with cupboards and counters, bar stools pulled up to it. The couch he’d been laid on had a half discarded afghan, the one that had been draped over him, on it. It looked homemade, not the kind you could buy in the store, made with whatever extra yarn the maker had left lying around. There was a television and stand across from the couch, a PS4 underneath and a Rock Band setup neatly propped against the wall. 

Mike stood, testing his balance. It was fairly steady so he walked over to a bookshelf to examine the contents. It was clean, dust free shelves filled with well worn books. Lots on various world mythology, some historical fiction, and a few that confused him. _Player’s Handbook? Dungeon Master’s Guide?_ He raised his eyebrows and curiously pulled one out. Were the people who owned this place into some freaky BDSM stuff? He opened the book but all it contained was a lot of fantasy art, spells, math, and what looked like rules or advice for a game of some kind. Mike put the book back and continued his exploration. 

He found a restroom, clean and organized as the rest of the flat. Then a bedroom which he quickly closed the door to, not wanting to invade anyone’s privacy. Did someone live here, in the back of the tattoo parlor? They must, he reasoned, before returning to the door he’d initially been brought through. Mike made his way back to Will’s cube, knocking on the wall before pulling the curtain aside. 

Will looked up at him from his laptop and swiveled his chair around to face Mike. 

“Ah, Mr. Wheeler. Better now?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, seating himself back into the leather chair. 

“Ready to continue?” the brunette artist asked, watching Mike impassively. 

Mike nodded, extending his hand, palm up so Will could see his forearm. Will pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and a new disposable mask, reaching for his needle gun again. 

“Make sure you tell me if you feel light headed, okay?” he said, voice reassuring and soft. 

Mike started to grin, then stopped, realizing he was reacting to the sound of Will’s voice rather than the excitement of a new tattoo. He dropped the grin and nodded. When Will’s hands returned to their work, returned to his skin, Mike forced down an uncomfortable feeling. It was obviously brought on by the pain and thrum of the needle, not the gentle touches of Will’s fingers that accompanied it. 

**

Mike fiddled with the bandage on his arm, resisting the urge to scratch at it. It was only a few days after his initial session and the skin already felt dry and flaky. When the bandage had first been applied, Will had given him after care instructions and a complimentary bottle of lotion. But with Lucas having come down with whatever it was that had made Dustin sick, Mike had been pulling double shifts and he knew he shouldn’t keep the area bandaged as frequently as he did. Mike just didn’t really want to expose it to all the customers and cleaning chemicals he was around at work. At least he had the proper tools to change the bandage and clean the wound at home.

Mike zoned out, making the drinks, letting the repetitive action lull him into a haze so deep he had to blink twice before turning to look at El who still had a finger on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. 

“Yeah?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Someone is asking for you,” she said, removing her finger now that she had his attention. 

Mike glanced over her shoulder, eyes falling on the slight man standing at the counter, hands in his pockets. That feathery, straight hair was neat and styled as always, tucked behind his ears. He was wearing a grey cardigan, unbuttoned over a white t-shirt that was tucked into a pair of black, form fitting jeans, a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Mike smiled at him, lifting a hand in acknowledgement before moving past El who watched him, to the counter. Will smiled back, raising his hand in return.The sweater was an odd choice in mid May but Mike didn’t judge. He reached the counter and laid his palms flat on it. 

“Hey! It's good to see you,” Mike greeted, still grinning. 

Will blinked back at him in that slow, serene way and smiled. 

“Mr. Wheeler, you’re looking well,” he murmured and Mike brightened. 

“What uh, brings you in?”

“Oh, just picking up some coffee and I wanted to check on you, see how you’re healing,” Will said, an easy smile still on his face. 

“Oh, uh, what can I get started for you?” Mike asked, autopilot forcing his customer service persona into place. 

Will blinked at him, surprised by the sudden change in his demeanor, even pitch of Mike’s voice. 

“Oh, no, she already took my order,” Will corrected, nodding at El who had her back turned to them. “May I?” he asked, indicating Mike’s arm. 

“Yeah, sure, hang on,” Mike said, looking back at El. “You have this under control?

She turned, looking the pair over and nodded. Mike moved away from the area customers placed their order and Will followed from the other side of the counter. When he reached where the orders were delivered, Mike laid his arm bare for Will to examine, peeling back the bandage. Will’s hands felt cool and soothing on his skin and Mike relaxed into the touch as Will leaned forward. 

“You’re healing well,” Will said after a minute, removing his hand. 

Mike felt strangely disappointed when that touch withdrew. 

“Are you using unscented lotion like I told you to?” Will asked, raising his eyes to meet Mike’s, questioning. 

“Yeah, every day,” Mike said, laying the bandage flat again. 

“Good, it’s important to hydrate the skin, and yourself. Are you drinking enough water? I don’t want a reprisal next time I get you in my chair,” Will said, chuckling. 

Mike felt his ears burn, still embarrassed about what had happened. Will seemed to notice and back tracked. 

“I’m only teasing you, Mr. Wheeler,” he apologized, looking away. 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Mike assured him quickly. “Yeah, I switched to tea instead of coffee, so you don’t have to worry about me fainting next time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Will said, eyes still not meeting Mike’s. 

Mike tried again. 

“Don’t get me wrong, being carried out like a swooning damsel was fun and all, but I’d rather not throw out your back from having to lug me around every time you stick a needle in me,” he joked, pressing the back of his wrist dramatically to his forehead and rolled his eyes back, letting his knees give out momentarily. When he looked back up, Will was smiling again. 

“Well, Mr. Wheeler, I’ll keep the smelling salts on hand just in case your strength of will alone isn’t enough to overcome your delicate nature,” Will chided, making Mike laugh. 

They chatted together quietly for a few minutes, only interrupted when El placed the coffees on the counter. Will picked up the drink carrier, handing one of the four coffees he’d ordered to Mike. 

“For you,” he explained, taking a step back, still smiling. “ I didn't know you'd switched to tea. I’ll see you in two weeks, Mr. Wheeler.”

“Or sooner. Come in any time,” Mike suggested, accepting the drink and shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Of course,” Will nodded, using both hands to balance the drinks. 

Mike watched him go before turning, almost bumping into El who was standing directly behind him. She looked up at him and didn’t step back, still encroaching on Mike’s personal space.

“He’s nice.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Mike agreed, side stepping her to edge back to his work space at the drink station. 

“You like him,” El said, following to take up her position at the register, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“Well yeah,” Mike said, glancing at her, “I mean, he seems chill and I’ve gotta like the person who’s gonna spend hours sticking me with a needle.”

“He likes you too,” El observed, fiddling with the key to the drawer but not opening it. 

“I hope so,” Mike laughed. “I’d hate to piss off the guy putting permanent ink on me. If I did, he might not sterilize the needle, maybe dig it in too deep.”

Mike knew that wasn’t true, Will was nothing if not professional. Mike couldn’t imagine him risking his career over something petty like not liking a client. 

“Not all tattoos are permanent,” she said, indicating Mike’s arm. “If they were we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” El concluded.

Mike looked at her, wondering if her feelings had been hurt by him covering up the tattoo of her name. He hadn’t even thought of that. Did it make her feel like he was trying to remove her, remove the memories they had together? That hadn’t been his intention and Mike sighed. 

“Hey, are you upset?” he asked, turning to face her. 

El blinked up at him, a curious look on her face. 

“No, I’m happy,” she finally said, expression unreadable. 

Even though El’s face was difficult to read, she’d always been direct, adverse to lying. If she said she wasn’t upset, that she was happy, Mike was inclined to take her word for it. Honestly, her direct approach to life had caused some fights between them in the past. When Mike tried to be what he thought was tactful, she’d accuse him of lying. Still, Mike didn’t hold it against her. She was real, honest to a fault, and even when Mike was pissed at her, he knew El was exactly who she was meant to be. Mike grinned, flashing teeth. 

“How are things with Max?” he asked, wanting to steer the conversation in a different direction. 

El smiled, her face brightening as she began to talk. Mike listened and for once, that little ember of jealousy that usually burned seemed to have died down to just ash and smoke. Mike leaned back, happy to listen. 

**

The weeks went by quickly and Mike soon found himself back in Will’s chair, The Office playing softly on the laptop. Mike had brought coffee (gratefully accepted by Robin and Steve), and Will had offered him a pastry. When Mike had tried to refuse it, Will had given him a scathing look until Mike accepted it and the water bottle he'd also been offered. Will had donned his gloves and mask again, running his fingers over the healed work, examining it to his satisfaction before continuing. 

Will worked in steady, even strokes, eyes focused. Mike watched with interest, the rattling of the needle numbing his arm a bit after a while. Will was seated on his stool, hunched forward, sleeves rolled up. Mike noticed that in addition to the thin white lines he’d seen on them earlier, there was an angry red one, thicker than the others, just beginning to heal and turn to scar tissue. It was curved, like Will had accidentally touched his arm to a hot stove coil. 

The cool towel felt nice and Will took his time wiping at the blood and ink. During the time the needle was on his skin, Will used light, almost artistic strokes. But when the towel was used, Will’s hands felt solid and firm. Mike was starting to enjoy both sensations. 

“You have really great skin you know,” Will said suddenly, causing Mike to stir. 

“What?”

“Good elasticity, well hydrated, minimal scarring and sun damage,” Will explained, still wiping with the cloth. 

Mike felt a little warm despite the cool towel. Of all the things he’d ever received a compliment about, his _skin_ had never been one. He cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“No, thank _you_ ,” Will said. “I don’t always have the pleasure of working with such a perfect canvas,” he murmured, honey brown eyes still focused on what he was doing. 

Mike fought the urge to squirm at the compliment. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just strange. A strange compliment accompanied by a strange feeling. He glanced down at his arm, his skin. It didn’t seem special to Mike. 

The artwork was taking real form now. He could see the sharp curve of the talon, the light reflecting in the crow’s eye. It had started to obscure the original tattoo, the vines fading into the lines of the animal, El’s name overtaken by feathers. It was looking great so far and Mike felt a twinge of disappointment when he could tell the session was coming to an end. 

“Well, that went much smoother than last time,” Will commented, light airy voice cutting through the sounds of The Office in the background. 

Mike had to agree. The two of them spoke easily to each other, finding a rhythm to their conversation; who led it and who followed. It was like a dance and if one stumbled or slipped, the other was quick to sweep them back up. Mike didn’t know if he was more disappointed by the fact that the tattoo wasn’t fully formed yet or by the fact that the conversation with Will was coming to a close. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t going to get to talk to Will again, because he was sure he would. Will had made a habit of coming into Level Up Latte fairly frequently to get coffee for the crew at Stranger Inks. Sometimes he’d shake it up, getting iced coffees on warm days but usually it was just straight java. But those conversations were always short, only a few words spoken due to the amount of other customers that needed attention. This one on one time during the tattoo sessions had been great. For once, Mike was grateful that it wasn’t going to be completed quickly. They had hours together this way, uninterrupted by the outside world. Mike wanted that again. 

Will walked him out, promising to book the next appointment as soon as he had a chance to go through his calendar. 

“Um, if we don’t schedule it now, how will I know when to come back?” Mike asked, rubbing the untouched skin above the fresh bandage.

“Oh, I have your contact information. I can text you, or call if you like,” Will said, looking up at the taller man. 

Yeah, Mike would like that a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading chapter two. Starting this chapter I'm going to put specific CWs on chapters that might need them, as from here on out the story is is going to have varying degrees on sensitive content. Chapter three should be available on Wednesday, barring any unforeseen delays. I'm still working during this COVID lock down and also making masks for friends and coworkers, so any unforeseen delays are for a good reason, I promise. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter and any kudos or reviews are appreciated. Take care of yourselves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation out for a night of celebrating ends in unexpected ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Alcohol, harsh language, and assault. Proceed at your own discretion.

Mike missed the call but just having the voicemail to listen to was a treat.

“Hello Mr. Wheeler, this is Will Byers from Stranger Inks.”

_Will had a last name. It was Byers._

“I’m calling to schedule your next appointment. I have openings on the sixth, seventh, and the tenth. Please call me back at your earliest convenience, or text me at this number. Thank you, I look forward to hearing from you soon,” the message concluded.

Mike’s finger hovered over the ‘delete’ button briefly before moving over to ‘save’. He’d listened to it maybe four times before falling asleep that night, tossing restlessly as warm summer air started to invade the townhouse. Mike didn’t want to call Will back so late at night and bother him, he’d do it tomorrow when he got off work. 

Speaking of which, there was still an endless line of customers that needed their orders taken. With Dustin out of town until Monday speaking with potential investors, Mike once again found himself manning the register. He worked without looking up, without seeing the customers’ faces. If he did look up, he didn’t actually register who they were or what they looked like. It was a bad habit he’d picked up when the store had opened. Once, Mike had even taken an entire order, rang it up, and handed back the change before the person had said his name, making him realize it was his sister Holly and a group of her friends. Even after that incident months ago, Mike still couldn’t break the habit of not making eye contact with customers. It wasn’t until a woman greeted him with a tired ‘Hey Latte Boy,’ that he let his eyes focus. 

Robin was standing by the counter, sunglasses on, mousy hair disheveled. Her clothes were rumpled and she smelled vaguely of stale beer and cigarettes. She offered Mike a sleepy grin and he returned it. 

“Hey Robin, what can I get started for you?”

“I’m gonna need like… a dozen bagels. I don’t care what kind but if you could throw a few sesame in, I’d appreciate it. And if you have blueberry muffins could I get a few of those too? And uhh… one of those To Go gallons of medium roast,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes beneath the glasses. 

Mike paused as he wrote down the order. 

“You guys having a party or something?” he asked. “Little early, isn’t it?”

“Ugh, no, not having a party. Recovering from one,” she mumbled again, removing her glasses and exposing her puffy eyes and dark circles beneath them, makeup smudged. “Need something to soak up the rest of the alcohol. That’s where the carbs come in.”

Mike laughed, keying in the order. 

“There is _no way_ you can eat that much food,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Yeah well I’ve gotta restock some food for Will. I _may_ have eaten all his cereal last night and used his marshmallow fluff instead of milk. So yeah, most of that’s going right into his refrigerator.”

The thought of Robin drunkenly eating all of Will’s cereal (and of Will having marshmallow fluff in his cupboards) made Mike chuckle. It was kind of endearing. 

“Yeah laugh it up Latte Boy, but we get pretty wild.”

Mike recalled the story of the Christmas light nipple rings. It was hard to imagine tight laced Will ‘getting wild’. He’d just have to take Robin’s word for it… Or he could pry.

“Go on,” Mike said, leaning across the counter, encouraging Robin to continue even as he rang in the order, handing the ticket back to Max who was Expo that morning. 

“Well last night Steve ended up with a brand new tattoo, right on the ass. A nice round juicy peach, cause that’s what he is,” Robin said with a wink. “A peach.”

Mike let out a startled laugh. 

“Are you telling me that you got drunk and tattooed a peach on Steve Harrington’s ass?”

He couldn’t wait to tell Nancy. 

“No, not me. Steve’s wanted me to get in his pants for years, I’m not about to indulge him now. Nah, Will did it.”

Mike didn’t know why, but the thought of Will drunkenly getting Steve Harrington’s pants off and tattooing him below the belt was a lot less funny than the image of Robin doing it. Mike shifted, suddenly fighting off a frown. 

“Yeah, Will was so wasted I don’t think he even remembers doing it. Didn’t do a bad job though, that boy’s got a steady hand,” she laughed.

That statement hadn’t alleviated the uncomfortable, uneasy feeling in Mike. If anything, it aggravated it. Mike was grateful when El approached, handing the order over. Mike thanked her and turned back to Robin. 

“El, huh?” Robin commented, handing Mike her debit card. “That Grandma? Gotta be rough working so close together.”

 _Not really_. At least it hadn’t been recently. 

“You know what? You should come out with us tonight. It’ll do you some good to loosen up and hang with people other than your ex,” she continued, shoving a bagel in her mouth when she put her card away. 

“Uh, sure,” Mike accepted, surprised by the invitation. “What time?”

“Text Will, he’ll have the details. I know you have his number,” she said, throwing a ten in the tip jar. 

Mike felt a little hot at the comment. Robin waved at him, turning to go with her oversized bags in one hand, the bagel in another. Mike tapped the phone in his pocket. He probably could have called Will back last night, might've even interrupted the impromptu tattoo session. 

Mike pushed the thought aside and continued his work, determined to focus on anything but the growing knot in his stomach. 

By the time his shift ended it was already five pm. Mike pulled his apron off and settled into a booth, fiddling with his phone but not turning it on. He finally pulled up his messages and typed a quick one, pressing send before he could change his mind. Should he wait for a response? It was five on a Saturday, Stranger Inks was probably busy. He might as well head home to shower so he didn’t smell like coffee and bagels for the rest of the night. As he was standing to go, Mike’s phone lit up and gave a soft chirp, letting him know that he had an incoming message. 

_Mr. Wheeler, can’t talk, with a walk in client. Should be done in two hours. Stop by after? W. Byers_

Oh, that reply was fast. Mike typed quickly. 

_Will do. C U then_

A beat passed before the phone lit up and beeped again. 

_Looking forward to it. W. Byers_

_Me 2_ Send. 

Mike pressed the save contact button, grinning as he put the phone back in his pocket. 

**

Stranger Inks was as brightly lit as always, illuminating the art and body jewelry displays and music playing softly through the speakers that had been built into the walls. Mike walked past the displays and couches, up to the counter in what was the beginnings of a routine. Steve was sitting at the counter, favoring his right side a little. Mike felt a flare of… something burning in his chest. He quickly shoved it down and approached, smiling widely. 

“Wheeler!” Steve greeted, looking up excitedly. “Hey man, heard you might be coming out with us tonight. Didn’t think you’d show though, Will’s been waiting on a text since nine.”

Mike paused. Will had been waiting on a text from him? It explained why his reply had come so quickly once Mike had sent it. It made Mike feel both elated and guilty that he’d left the other man waiting for so long after Robin had probably told him to expect the text. 

“Oh, I was working. I didn’t get off until five,” he explained sheepishly. 

Steve raised a hand to stop him, his explanation. 

“Hey, it’s cool. I’m just glad you showed. Robin doesn’t invite people along often so blowing her off wouldn’t have been good. She takes things personally.”

Mike hadn’t even thought of that. He’d mostly been concerned with making Will wait around for him, he hadn’t even considered that Robin’s feelings might have been hurt as well. He felt even worse. 

“Anyway, take a seat. Will’s finishing up with a client and Robin’s trying to fix some fucked up mall piercings. It’s gonna be a minute.”

“You guys closing early tonight?” Mike asked, glancing around the unusually quiet parlor. 

“Yep! Celebrating! Robin found a great second location downtown and their lease is up next year, so tomorrow we start interviewing potential apprentices for her, someone to take her spot here when she moves to supervise the new location,” Steve explained, almost vibrating with energy.

“That’s awesome!” Mike said, genuinely excited for them. “Is Will gonna take an apprentice too?”

“Eh, that’s iffy,” Steve said with a shrug. “We tried to talk to him about it but Will’s not really comfortable having people work on him and an apprentice has to practice before working on a real client. And frankly, I’m running out of free skin for people to practice on,” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably, probably due to sitting on a fresh tattoo all day

Mike considered that. If Will was uncomfortable having people work on him, it would explain the lack of visible tattoos. Mike had been wondering why a person in Will’s profession would be so ink free. But why was Will so resistant? Mike almost asked, but thought better of it. Instead, he opted to move away from Steve to sit down on one of the leather couches and wait. Mike opened up his social media accounts, surprised to see a new friend suggestion pop up. It was Will, probably suggested because Mike had saved his number under his contacts. 

Mike wanted to send the request but hesitated. What if Will didn’t accept it? The thought of that, the possibility of rejection, made Mike uncomfortable so he held off on even sending the invitation in the first place. 

Mike continued to browse, only glancing up when Robin emerged from the back with another woman who was thanking her and handing her a twenty as a tip. Whatever Robin had done to fix the ‘fucked up mall job’ must have worked. Robin collected the payment and bid a farewell to her client with a cheerful ‘Call anytime!’ before strolling over to plop down next to the curly haired man on the overstuffed couch.

“Hey Robin,” he greeted, scooting over to make room for her. 

“Heya Mike,” she said, using his name for once. “You showed up.”

“Well, you invited me. Congratulations on the new location, by the way.”

She beamed at him, obviously proud. 

“Yeah, we’re all really excited.. Will’s gonna be happy you decided to come along to help us celebrate,” she added, picking at the cuticles of her nails. 

“I texted him earlier. He didn’t give me an exact time, just said to show up here. I hope that’s okay.”

Robin smiled at him and chewed her lip ring. 

“For sure,” she said, still picking at her nails. “You ever heard of Mask?” she asked, glancing at him and then back to her hand. 

Mike thought about it, coming up blank. 

“Can’t say that I have,” he conceded after a moment.

“It’s fine. It’s kind of our main hang space. I wonder if it’s gonna be your sort of crowd but I think you’ll like it,” Robin said, looking over Mike’s shoulder as a muscular, tattooed man exited the work areas followed by Will, red sweater hanging loosely on his lithe frame. 

Mike leaned over the back of the couch, leather squeaking against his skin, and waved a greeting. Will smiled at him, nodding in acknowledgement. Mike couldn’t describe why but even that small nod nod had made him feel warm and excited. Maybe it was because this would be the first time Mike would get to see Will outside of a work environment. Mike had never thought of himself as particularly social and it had been years since he hung out with anyone outside of his immediate friend group. Yeah, Robin had been the one to invite him along, but Mike had gotten the impression it had been _for_ Will. Or had he imagined that?

Mike watched as Will spoke to his client, giving aftercare instructions and a free bumper sticker with the Stranger Inks logo, the swirling smoke monster, on it. The man gladly accepted the instructions and sticker, shaking Will’s hand as Will led him to the door. Steve finished processing the payment and flopped down on the couch next to Mike, effectively sandwiching him between the two proprietors. Steve let out a sigh as Will locked the door with an audible ‘click’. When Will turned to face the group he looked them over, evaluating the situation. 

“So, we pregaming at your place?” Robin asked, meeting his gaze. 

“It’s kind of a wreck…” Will started, looking unsure as he glanced at Mike. 

Robin popped off the couch, slinging her purse over her shoulder. 

“I can clean while I drink,” she insisted, patting Will on the cheek and she moved past him towards the back rooms. 

Mike had expected her to head to the front door, not the back. Steve let out a dramatic sound and followed her, hoisting himself from the couch. 

“Coming Wheeler?” he asked, keeping the door propped open with a foot. 

“Yeah, right behind you, the freckled man said, rising to follow the others. 

Will trailed behind the group and Mike looked over at him. Will’s face was as impassive and unreadable as ever. Was he feeling uncomfortable? Mike pressed on the door, holding it open for Will who slipped by with a soft ‘thank you’. Mike was happy to let him pass, Will’s cologne wafting through the air as he did. Mike followed, feeling a bit like an outsider despite how welcoming Steve and Robin had been. It’s not like Will hadn’t been welcoming, but he was reserved, difficult to read, an enigma. Mike couldn’t tell if Will actually enjoyed having him around or if he was just being polite. 

So Mike followed behind the others, wondering if there was a back door to the building he’d yet to see. Instead, Robin pushed open the door to the apartment Mike had been taken to when he’d gone into shock. So this was Will’s place? He’d been sure someone had lived there but he’d assumed it was one of the owners. Mike hesitated at the door, unsure if he should wait for an invitation or not. Will looked to him, standing motionless in the doorway. 

“You can come in, Mr. Wheeler,” he said, motioning. 

“You can call me Mike you know,” he said, stepping in. 

Will smiled that gentle, serene smile. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, _Mr. Wheeler_ ,” he said, eyes soft. “Have a seat, I’ll try and get this place in order.”

Will moved away, ducking into the kitchen nook where Robin had laid her purse. The woman already had the cupboard open and was lining up glasses on the counter. For all the embarrassment Will seemed to have about how messy the place was, Mike only saw a few small things amiss or out of place. The Rock Band setup was pulled away from the wall, apparently having been used the previous night. There were a few unwashed glasses and a bowl in the sink and the recycling bin was full, ready to be taken out but not exactly a mess. The afghan was thrown haphazardly across the couch cushions instead of across the back of the couch but other than that, Mike didn’t know what Will could be talking about. 

Mike sat down as Will began washing dishes and Steve settled in next to him. 

“Want a beer?” Steve asked, slinging an arm over the back of the couch, near Mike’s head.

“He wants a Slow Screw Against the Wall,” Robin said loudly, cutting off any reply Mike could have made. 

Mike almost choked. 

“W-what?” he said, whipping around to look at her, face burning red. 

Robin was pouring drinks and Will looked over his shoulder as he continued to wash the dishes. 

“It’s sloe gin, orange juice, and well vodka. So, a Slow Screw Against the Wall. It’s Robin’s signature drink,” he explained, turning back to the task he was working on. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” Mike said, still feeling a little hot. “Why well vodka?” he asked as Robin set down a coaster and drink for him. 

“If it’s not well vodka it’s just a Slow Screw,” she said rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Steve agreed, accepting his own mixed drink and beer Robin set down for him.

“Obviously,” Will echoed with a laugh, drying the dishes with a cloth and putting them away. “I didn’t know you wanted to pregame here, I would have bought more orange juice,” he added, apologizing. 

Robin waved a hand, cutting him off. 

“I brought mead, it’s in the fridge with the food I dropped off earlier,” she said, returning to the kitchen and shoving Will out of it. “Go sit down, I’ve got this. Relax Will, seriously.”

Will looked unsure, like he wanted to keep cleaning but conceded, picking up the offered drink and coaster. He made his way to the couch and sat down next to Mike, knees tucked close together so he didn’t bump against the freckled man. Mike could smell Will’s cologne again and the thought of being glad he was seated between Will and Steve crossed his mind before it dissipated like smoke. He shifted, raising the glass to his lips to taste Robin’s signature drink. 

“It's good, right?” Will asked, sipping his own. 

“Yeah, really good,” Mike agreed, eyes lingering on Will’s lips against the glass, the rings clinking lightly as he drank. 

He looked away, unsure why he’d been focusing on that. Maybe it was the sound that had drawn his attention, that clinking. Steve rolled his eyes and downed his drink in two long gulps. He set down the empty glass and reached for his beer, looking at Mike as he did so. 

“It hurts her feelings if I don’t drink it, but honestly, hard liquor always ends up with me making bad decisions,” he explained. 

“It probably doesn’t help that you drink it all in one go,” Mike commented, sipping on his.

Next to him, Will laughed, making Mike smile. 

“It’s true Steve, you do it to yourself,” Will chuckled, setting his glass down. 

“Shut up and drink,” Robin grumbled, easing herself into the armchair across from the men. “I wanna finish this mead before we head out.”

The group didn’t need much more encouragement than that. An hour later, Mike was feeling it. He relaxed into the couch, not even minding Robin and Steve’s bickering about potential applicants. Will was leaning back, listening but not offering his opinion. Mike struggled to his feet, trying to find a way off the couch without having to balance on either of the other men.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Mike asked, glancing down at Will when he finally managed to stand.  
“Down the hall on the left.”

Mike nodded, accepting the direction, not wanting to admit he’d gone snooping the last time he’d been here. He nodded thanks and moved away from the others, heading towards the restroom. It was as orderly as it had been last time, smelling faintly of disinfectant, something floral, and under that, copper. The counter had a wax melter on it and it was giving off the pleasant floral scent. 

Mike relieved himself, washed his hands, and threw the paper towel into the wastebasket, pausing for a moment when he did. _Was that blood_? There was certainly something tucked away at the bottom of the trash. It looked like a hand towel, stained with something brown and dried. Mike didn’t fish around to dig it out, figuring Will had injured himself and threw away the towel rather than fuss with trying to clean it. 

Still, whatever injury it had been must have been significant based on the amount of blood on the towel. Mike hoped Will was alright and had gotten checked out by a medical professional. Maybe Mike would ask to see it himself later if Will didn’t mind.

In the living room/kitchen nook the trio of Stanger Inks was milling around, Robin on her phone, Will rinsing the cups in the sink, Steve seated at one of the bar stools chatting with Will as he worked. A soft ‘meow’ drew Mike’s attention and a cat blinked lazily up at him. Where had it come from? Mike reached down to pet it as it rubbed against his leg but that must have offended the feline because it spat at him before turning to trot down the hall, disappearing into the bedroom. 

_Fine, be that way,_ he thought, watching the grey striped tabby vanish into the dark. 

“Alright, Uber’s on the way,” Robin called, looking up from her phone. “You guys ready to hit the town?”

Steve pumped a fist in the air to show enthusiasm and Will smiled, alcohol adding color to his face. 

“Hell yeah,” Mike chimed in, moving to stand next to the others. 

This was gonna be a great night.

**

Mask was… not exactly what Mike had been expecting. The crowd was an even mix of young adults and older. Despite the age differences, most people seemed to know each other and mingle, floating from table to table. The Stranger Inks crew stopped to greet a few people before sitting at a secluded table near the back. 

“I’ll get the drinks,” Robin announced, not bothering to ask what anyone wanted. 

“Just go with it,” Will whispered, grinning, already buzzing from the drinks Robin had been feeding them all back at the apartment. 

Mike was quickly learning to accept whatever Robin wanted, Robin got, so he nodded. When she returned, she had four glasses of something red, garnished with a cherry and what looked like an orange but the meat of the fruit was red, and what looked like juicy seeds at the bottom of the glass. She passed them out and Mike took his, curious. 

“What is it?” he asked, sniffing it.

“Pomegranate Old Fashioned,” she explained, taking a long drink. 

“Jesus Christ Woman!” Steve said in exasperation. “Just let me have a beer!”

Steve threw his head back, downing the drink as quickly as he could. 

“I’m sure Mike’s with me on that, right?” Steve asked, eyes watering from how quickly he’d downed the beverage. 

Robin laughed, tapping her foot against the table. 

“I don’t know about that, I think Mike’s on our team on this one,” she insisted, twirling her straw in the cup and looking at Will “And slow down, dingus, you’re gonna get arrested again.”

Mike gave an apologetic look at Steve and took a sip of the offered drink, almost coughing it up through his nose. _Holy shit, that was strong_. Will glanced at him, still smiling and flushed. 

“Yeah, Cece is a little heavy handed,” he said, indicating the drinks and nodding to the bartender. “It’s one of the benefits of this place, getting drunk on the cheap.”

“One of the many benefits,” Robin said, eyeing a pretty blond girl across the bar. 

“For God’s sake, I’m gonna grab a pitcher,” Steve groaned, rubbing his temples. “Mike? What’s your preference?” obviously looking for at least one person to be on his side. 

“Yeah Mike,” Robin said, leaning forward with interest. “What’s your preference?”

“Uh, Modelo?” Mike said, still unsure what to say. 

He really didn’t want to be taking sides among a group where he was the newcomer. Robin seemed to accept that answer, nodding her head. 

“Nice,” Steve commented, giving a salute and heading back to the bar top.

Robin rolled her eyes at Steve as he left and took another drink before leaning back into her chair, turning her attention back to Mike. 

“So, Latte Boy, what do you think?” she asked, indicating the bar around them. 

“It’s nice,” he responded, watching the people mingle. 

“Yeah? Feel at home?” she pressed, tapping her nails against the glass. 

“I guess.”

“Leave him alone, Robin,” Will interjected, having finished his drink almost as quickly as Steve had. “I’m gonna gt another round, my choice this time,” Will said, expression a little… _dark?_ as he stood, slightly off balance. 

“Fine, whatever, but I know I’m right,” the pierced woman grumbled, settling into her drink as her eyes bore into Mike. 

He shifted, uncomfortable with the amount of attention she was directing at him. The questions and statements seemed to have a deeper meaning but Mike didn’t know what it could possibly be that she was actually searching for when he spoke. Mike focused on his own drink, chewing a seed as he forced the watering of his eyes down as the liquor burned it’s way down his throat.

“So, you guys come here a lot?” he asked, drinking deep to finish the cocktail off. 

“Yeah, you know, it’s a good place for people like us. Almost a second home,” she replied, twirling her hair as she looked around the bar. “Very accepting.”

“That’s cool, I’ve never even heard of this place,” Mike said. “It’s nice.”

“So how are your sessions going? You and Will vibing?” she questioned, grey blue eyes still locked on the freckled man across from her. 

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy.”

“He’s very cool, I’m glad you’re hitting it off,” she agreed, turning her attention to Steve who was returning with a pitcher and four iced mugs. “”Where are the limes?” she asked, helping the tall man set the glasses down without breaking them. 

“My God, Robin, I’m not an eldritch horror. I only have two hands and no tentacles to spare, give me a second,” he gripped, grinning at her despite the back and forth bickering they always seemed to do. 

Robin clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Crybaby. Mike, can you help Will get the drinks and the limes?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Mike said, taking the now empty glasses to return to the bar. 

It took a moment for Mike to locate Will at the crowded bar top. He finally spotted the other man’s flare of red among all the bodies. Mike approached, pausing briefly when he saw Will talking to someone. The person was reclining against the bar, speaking in low tones and moving his hands to emphasize whatever point he was making. Will seemed to be leaning away, eyes averted and was shaking his head ‘no’. The other man didn’t seem to be taking the hint and Mike stepped in to intervene. Sliding up next to Will, Mike put a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder and forced a smile while making hard eye contact with the newcomer who was still speaking to the tattoo artist. Will seemed to recoil a little, but didn’t try to pull away. The other man looked up at Mike, less than friendly. 

“Hey Will, who’s this?” Mike asked, brown eyes meeting green. 

“Oh, this is Zach. He was offering to buy this round for us, but I told him it wasn’t necessary,” Will explained, seeming both uncomfortable and relieved that Mike had inserted himself into the conversation. 

The other man, _Zach_ , had stopped talking and seemed to be evaluating Mike. He finally spoke, breaking eye contact to look at Will who seemed to shrink back a little when he did. 

“You haven’t introduced your friend, Will. Who’s this?” Zach asked, motioning to Mike. 

“A client,” Will said. 

“Mike Wheeler,” Mike interrupted, extending the hand he’d had on Will’s shoulder to the other man. “And we’re all good paying for our drinks, thanks though, bud,” he said, still grinning despite the alcohol fueled fire in his belly. 

Zach looked Mike over again before taking a step back, rejecting the handshake. 

“Cool man, I’ll leave you to it,” Zach said, smiling back at Mike, almost a _challenge_. He then turned his attention to Will, eyes hard. “You look good, Will. I’ll see you later.”

Will shifted uncomfortably, eyes wide and averted, grateful when the bartender slid four glasses and a plate of lime wedges towards him. 

“Everything okay over here?” she asked, looking the trio over. 

“It’s fine,” Will assured her, handing her cash and taking two cup and the plate. “Thanks Cece. C’mon,” he said, glancing in Mike’s direction, eyes still lowered. “Let’s go.”

“You got it,” Mike said, picking up the remaining glasses, eyes still locked on Zach. “Nice meeting you,” he said, more a snarl than a sincere farewell. 

He turned away, drinks in hand to follow Will back to the table where the others were waiting, deep in conversation. Steve looked up and passed Mike a beer while Mike handed him a glass of… Whatever it was Will had ordered. It looked similar to the last, but had three cherries on a plastic toothpick and no orange wedge. Steve sniffed it, wrinkling his nose. 

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

 _Good question_.

“Morello Cherry Tequila Sours,” Will said, nervous fiddling with his.

“Put a lid on it, Steve. If I’m drinking beer, you’re drinking liquor. Now buckle up, we’re celebrating,” Robin said, eating a cherry from the pick and holding her glass up in the ‘cheers’ position. 

“Bottoms up,” Mike said apprehensively, offering Steve a half hearted smile. 

Two cocktails turned into four and despite Robin’s complaints the pitcher of beer was pretty equally shared by all. Added to what everyone had already had at Will's place and an hour and a half later, Robin had wandered off to make a move on the blond she’d been eyeing all night and Mike was buzzing pretty hard. Will had been withdrawn for a while after the encounter at the bar, but was now laughing more than Mike had ever heard him previously. Every one of Steve’s dumb jokes seemed to make the artist crack up and Mike was enjoying the sound, even telling the only priest and a rabbi joke her knew in hopes of getting that reaction from Will as well. It had worked and Mike felt warm as Will had to hold onto his arm to keep from falling out of his chair with the force of his laughter. 

Mike stood, a little wobbly and excused himself to take a piss. 

Even the bathrooms in this place were stylish, clean, and well maintained. Mike hummed to himself as he washed his hands, eyes falling on an elaborate ceramic bowl on the counter. There were condoms of all varieties and styles inside, colored packaging all displaying the Mask logo. _Well that’s an interesting marketing tool_ he thought. It was like how a hotel sometimes had customized soaps and hand lotions. Mike chuckled and pocketed one  
.  
When he returned to the table, having to take a moment to locate it in his drunken haze, Will was gone and Steve was chatting with a girl who’d taken up Robin’s old seat. Mike cleared his throat before addressing Steve. 

“Hey, where are Robin and Will?”

“Uh, I think Robin left with that chick,” Steve said, eyes hazy, focusing on Mike. “Aaaaaaaaand Will went outside to smoke,” he concluded. 

“Will smokes?” Mike asked, a little surprised. 

“Not really, only when he drinks,” Steve said, arm curling around the new girl at the table. “He’s outside on the patio,” he said, waving a hand to show the direction the other man had gone. 

Mike nodded and moved away, leaving Steve and the girl alone so they could have some privacy. With Robin and Steve both pairing off with other people, that left Will as the only person Mike knew. He pushed the door to the patio open and looked around. There were a few people milling around, but Mike couldn’t spot Will’s red sweater. He looked over to a group of four men and a woman who were seated at a center table, chatting happily. 

“Hey, excuse me, have any of you seen a guy with a red sweater, brown eyes and hair around here?” he asked. 

The group looked up, one of the men was stroking another’s arm. 

“Yeah, little guy? I think he’s out in the parking lot,” the man whose arm was being rubbed replied, motioning behind him. 

“Thanks, appreciate it,” Mike said, drawing his gaze away from the flirtation between the men, mildly uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't explain. 

The parking lot was full of cars but it didn’t take Mike long to spot movement among the vehicles. What took him longer to process was what exactly it was that he was seeing. 

Two people were struggling, one obviously Will. It looked like someone had him by the arms and was pushing him against a car, holding him there while the petite brunet struggled and wriggled, trying to break free. 

“Let me go! I told you I wasn’t fucking interested!”

Mike had never heard Will cuss before and the way his voice was raised made Mike’s heart pound. 

“C’mon, just suck me off,” the assailant was saying, trying to open the car door while keeping control of the smaller man. 

“Fuck you!” Will shouted, twisting and struggling ferociously. 

“That’s the plan,” the other man growled, twisting Will’s arm so hard the artist let out a small yelp. 

“I told you no!” Will cried, clawing at his assailant’s face which only seemed to make the other man angrier. 

Mike was moving without thought, without realizing he was even doing it. When he saw the man holding Will hit him, knocking the artist’s head back and heard another pained cry, that was it. Mike saw _red _.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, sorry for the late in the day update. I'd been intending to post this chapter in the morning rather than the afternoon but I was having internet difficulties. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. As always, take care of yourselves and I'll see you at the next chapter. I'm hoping to have that one posted sometime Sunday afternoon when I get out of work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out celebrating ends abruptly. Mike learns more about Will and his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter include descriptions of abuse and domestic violence. Also implied drugging and attempted sexual assault. Proceed at your discretion.

The sound of his blood, his heartbeat pounding in his ears was the only thing Mike could hear as his vision narrowed to pinpoints. Later, he wouldn’t be able to recall crossing the parking lot, he couldn’t remember grabbing Will’s assailant by the back of the shirt, but he remembered yanking him back so hard that Mike ended up dragging both Zach and Will with the force of it moments after he heard another audible smack and cry of pain from Will. Mike didn’t know if it was the alcohol or pure rage, but something blurred his memory of the incident. 

Mike shoved Zach, causing him to release Will as he was thrown away from the car into the parking lot. Will looked horribly disoriented, blood leaking from his nose and Mike wondered if it was broken. Will looked around and managed to focus his vision on Mike, moving towards him in a wavering, unsteady gait. Mike’s fists clenched, his breath heavy and uneven as he stood between Will and the other man. 

“Stay the fuck away from him!” Mike shouted at Zach who was stumbling forward from where he’d been thrown. 

Zach’s green eyes narrowed, zoning in on the person who’d interrupted… Whatever it was he’d been doing to Will. 

“The fuck is your problem?” he demanded, stepping towards Mike despite the warning. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you!”

“Fuck you,” Mike snarled, staying focused on the man in front of him as Will moved further behind him, using him as a barrier, a shield. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Zach asked, evaluating the situation, evaluating Mike. “This uppity little twink sucking your dick now?”

Mike’s anger flared high, gasoline added to the fire he already felt. He bared his teeth in a snarl. 

“You’re disgusting,” he spat, animosity making his voice drop in pitch as he glared daggers at the blond man.

“Oh, he’s not yet? You should let him,” Zach laughed, making a lewd gesture and rubbing the front of his jeans. “It’s the only thing he’s good for.”

Mike let out a hiss, anger rolling off him in waves, a deeply uncomfortable feeling was gnawing at the back of his mind. _Why the fuck would this asshole be talking to him, talking about Will like that?_ Despite himself (and to Mike’s shame), his dick twitched in interest as an image of Will on his knees flashed through his mind. Mike pushed it back, choking down his outrage as Will grabbed his wrist, tugging at him and halting the movement Mike didn’t know he’d been making in Zach’s direction. 

“Mike, I don’t feel very good,” Will was saying, his voice barely audible over the thrum and pulse of blood in Mike’s ears. 

It was the first time Will had ever called Mike by his first name and it effectively drew the curly haired man’s attention back to the small artist. Will did _not_ look good. He was off balance, wobbling where he stood, eyes unable to focus and a thin trail of blood was steadily leaking from his right nostril, pooling around his chin and throat. Mike didn’ think that Will had drunk enough to make him act like that, even after taking a few hits to the face, and it was concerning. Mike turned back to Zach, baring his teeth again. 

“Get the fuck out of here and stay away from him,” Mike warned. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

The other man laughed, raising his hands in a sarcastic gesture of defeat. 

“Whatever. You should be thanking me, I got him ready for you,” he said, eyes narrowing cruelty as Will stumbled again, still trying to use Mike for balance.

Mike didn’t want to think about what that might mean and he stood his ground, shaking with rage as Zach moved away, still laughing. The blond shook his head, still seemingly immensely amused by the whole encounter and the way Will was struggling to stay steady. He shot a nasty look at Will and then at Mike before getting in his car.

“Have fun but make sure you save some for me. Just clean him up when you’re done. I don’t mind waiting my turn but I don’t like ‘sloppy’ seconds,” Zach sneered. 

Mike felt Will flinch, shrinking even further behind him at the malignity of the words. Mike wanted to touch Will, to comfort him in some way but didn’t want to draw any more vicious verbal attacks towards Will from the retreating man.

One Zach was finally in the car and pulling away, Mike turned to Will, holding him by the forearm to help him balance. 

“I wanna go home…” Will mumbled, still having difficulty focusing on Mike as he wiped at the blood on his face, the red of it blending into the yarn of his sweater. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll call an Uber,” Mike assured him, letting Will lean fully on him while Mike made a mental note to apologize to Steve for ditching him later. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the app as Will leaned heavily on him. It wasn’t that Will _himself_ was particularly heavy, but he was fairly limp and pressed against the taller man, Mike having wrapped an arm around his slim waist, bore the brunt of his slight weight. Where they connected, heat was radiating between their bodies. It was already a fairly warm early summer evening and Will’s sweater was making the smaller man sticky with sweat. 

Mike looked down at the other man, trying to figure out what was going on with him. Will looked barely conscious. Well, maybe not quite like he was about to pass out, but certainly like something was very, _very_ wrong with him that was making Will unable to stand properly. Mike gave him a reassuring squeeze and waved a hand, catching the attention of the Uber driver. Mike pulled the back door open and eased the petite brunet inside. The driver looked over his shoulder at them, eyebrows raised at the pair. 

“He okay?”

“Yeah, I think,” Mike said, unsure. 

Will had wiped most of the blood away but he was still a pitiful sight. His fine, straight hair was a mess from the scuffle, his honey brown eyes heavy and forestalled. Will was hunching in on himself, as if he was trying to be as small as possible, as unnoticeable as he could be.

“Is he gonna puke?”

“I don’t know,” Mike conceded apologetically, anxiety making his stomach twist and knot. 

“I’ve got a bag in the back,” the driver said, motioning to it. “Try to aim there, okay buddy?” he called to Will who nodded weakly. 

Will was still gripping Mike’s arm, not releasing him even as Mike tried to pull away. 

“Don’t leave. I don’t know if I can make it inside by myself,” he mumbled, almost slurring the words. 

“You got it,” Mike agreed, sliding into the car next to the enervated artist and shutting the door behind himself. 

The ride was quiet, no words spoken between the men. The driver had turned on music and was playing it softly, seeming to know this wasn’t the time for small talk. Mike really didn’t like how passive, how unresponsive Will was being. His head was lolling to the side with the movement of the vehicle, his soft brown eyes foggy and unfocused. When they finally got back to Stranger Inks, it wasn’t nearly soon enough for Mike’s taste. 

“Hey, we’re here,” he said, touching Will’s shoulder. 

Will didn’t say anything, didn’t even move at the touch. 

“Hey, Will, you okay?”

“I think he’s had a little too much. You need help getting him in?” the driver asked, looking over the back of his seat again. 

“No, I’ve got him,” Mike said, not at _all_ comfortable with having anyone else touch Will right now, especially when he couldn’t consent to the help. 

Mike got out first, bending forward to pull Will to him. The other man went pliantly, like a human rag doll. Mike positioned his shoulder under Will’s arm, wrapping his hand around Will’s waist to grip him. 

“Sorry,” Mike murmured, unsure if Will could hear him or not. 

He pulled the artist out, the only difficulty being the fact that the other man was so limp. Mike staggered to the door, any feelings of intoxication fading quickly as he struggled to keep himself and Will upright. Mike pulled on the doorknob. _Of course it’s locked_. Mike looked around. Will hadn't brought his messenger bag and Mike’s car was parked at least two blocks away. He considered his options. He could try to drag Will to his car and take him back to the townhouse he shared with Dustin, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. How would Will react to waking up in an unfamiliar environment after what he’d been through tonight? Mike shifted. Will might have a key to the tattoo parlor on him, he did live there after all. 

“Hey, I’m gonna look in your pockets, okay?” Mike asked, no really expecting a response and not receiving one. 

Mike took a breath and started patting Will’s right front pocket. Empty. He really hoped the key (if it even existed) wasn’t in a back pocket. He apologized again, patting Will’s left leg now. Relief flooded him when he felt what he assumed was a keychain. Mike slipped his hand inside the pocket, searching for the keys, (feeling the smooth muscle of Will’s leg) trying to hook his fingers through keyring and tug them from the material. Finally successful in extracting the keys, Mike adjusted his hold on Will so he could unlock the door. Thankfully the second key fit and Mike managed to pull the door ajar, fumbling a few times before finding a good grip on both Will and the handle. 

_This is way worse than trying to do this with the coffees._

Once in, Mike dragged the seemingly unconscious artist to the lobby couch, setting him down as gently as he could. The freckled man pushed his curls out of his face so he could look Will over again, properly examining him. The small man looked totally out of it, dead to the world. At least the bleeding had stopped and only a few dried specks marred his face. Mike turned away, moving to lock the door to the shop before returning to the motionless man on the couch. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go unlock your apartment but I’m coming right back,” he told the unresponsive brunette. 

Mike didn’t want to leave Will but the thought of trying to unlock the second door while dragging an entire other person wasn’t any more appealing than just leaving him. Thankfully, Mike managed to unlock the second door without much trouble, leaving it cracked open while he headed back, padding along the darkened hall as quickly as he could navigate it. 

The store was so quiet, so still. No music played over the speakers, there wasn’t even the hum of the lights and computer. Mike returned to Will who hadn’t moved from the position Mike had set him in when they first arrived. Mike looked down at Will, trying to decide how to best approach this. Will didn’t weigh much, the real struggle had been carrying Will while trying to encourage him to walk. 

“Okay, I’ve got this,” Mike said, kneeling down next to Will. “Hey, I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” he asked, more for his own benefit than the artist’s. 

And Mike _could_ do it. He knew he could deadlift near three hundred pounds on a good day. Will was probably about half that. This should be easy. 

The problem was that Will was a person, not a barbell. His weight wasn’t evenly distributed, his form limp and molding around Mike’s arms as the dark haired man struggled to find the right leverage needed for the task. It was more challenging than anticipated and finding his footing was tricky, but once he found it, Mike managed to lift Will from the couch and cradle him bridal style fairly easily. He supported Will beneath the knees and under the arms, propping him up so that Will’s soft brown hair tickled Mike’s nose as Will’s head rolled against the taller man’s chest. The familiar scent of Will’s cologne wafted up, mingling with the smell of booze and cigarette smoke. Mike concentrated on carrying the smaller man, not the feeling of his weight, his warmth, and how solid Will felt against him. 

Mike pushed the cracked door open with his back, stepping into the darkened apartment and pausing to orient himself. Will’s coffee maker was emitting a faint blue light from it’s time display and a hall light offered a warm, almost orange light. Okay, Mike would get Will into his bed and then he’d feel better. 

He maneuvered down the hall slowly, careful not to bump the unconscious man into any walls as he walked. Once in the room, Mike let his eyes adjust since the only light was still coming from the hall. It was the first time he’d actually seen Will’s room, having quickly shut the door the first time he’d gone snooping. It was as orderly as the rest of the apartment, the bed made, clothes hanging in a closet with the door open. There was a metal desk with the laptop open on it, a simple black desk organizer next to it stacked with pens, paint, sketchbooks and other similar items. A small wooden filing cabinet sat on the floor next to the desk. 

Mike moved towards the bed and eased the smaller man down on top of the brown and blue comforter, pushing a couple of the decorative pillows out of the way. Will flopped down bonelessly, not even twitching. Mike turned, walking back to the living room to collect the homemade afghan from the couch. He bundled it in his arms, the yarn smelling strongly of incense and laundry detergent (and Will), carrying it back to Will’s still unmoving form. Mike laid it over the smaller man, thankful that Will hadn’t vomited. Mike wasn’t especially squeamish, he’d spent all of last summer dismembering and dissecting cadavers for extra practice with one of the TA’s he’d gotten friendly with, but he didn’t think that Will would have been particularly appreciative if Mike had undressed him, even if it was to help clean him up. Still, it couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in shoes so Mike slipped Will’s loafers off and set them next to the foot of the bed.

As he did, a paw shot out from beneath the bed skirt and scratched him, drawing blood. A soft hiss accompanied the blow and Mike yanked his hand back, narrowing his eyes at the grey striped cat that growled at him, warning him away. 

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled, turning away from the cat and giving it it’s space to hide beneath the bed as he rubbed the back of his hand in annoyance. 

Mike retreated from the cat, instead letting his gaze fall back to Will, so small and inert beneath the multicolored blanket. Mike rolled him onto his side on case he _did_ vomit, not wanting Will to aspirate. When he did, Will didn’t react, not that Mike was expecting him to at this point. Will wasn’t acting drunk. Even drunks responded to touch. Will almost seemed… drugged. Mike thought back to what Zach had said about ‘getting him ready’ and Mike’s stomach turned. 

God, what had he been planning to do if Mike hadn’t found them, hadn’t intervened? Zach had been trying to get Will into his car, had hit him twice before Mike reached them, and had made crude comments about sexual things Will could do, or had done. Mike felt disgusted at the implications as well, that Zach had gotten Will ‘ready’ and that Mike might take advantage of the situation. Forget that Mike wasn’t gay, because even if he was, he wasn’t a _rapist_. The thought of an unwilling partner, someone who couldn’t enthusiastically consent, who couldn’t touch back or even _move_ made Mike feel like he was going to vomit up every drink he’d been bought that night. If he was going to do anything with Will, Mike wanted it to be passionate, heated, uncontrollable desire-

_Where the hell had that thought come from?_

Mike must not have been as sober as he thought he was. He pushed the thought aside and leaned forward, touching Will’s wrist, checking his pulse. It didn’t feel weak or thready, but Mike didn’t know how comfortable he felt leaving Will alone and vulnerable, still in danger of choking in the night if his body decided to reject whatever it was that was causing this state he was in. Mike glanced around, finding an oversized bean bag chair shaped like a chest with eyes and massive, cloth teeth. He dragged it over to the head of Will’s bed and flopped down into it. The cat beneath the bed hissed in protest at his near proximity again and Mike shushed it. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to help,” he whispered. “Keep your claws to yourself.”

The cat growled, obviously not enjoying the idea of Mike being so near to it or it’s master. 

“You stay under there and I’ll stay over here and we’ll leave each other alone, deal?” Mike said drowsily.

Unsurprisingly, the cat didn’t seem convinced. It growled again, yellow eyes flashing as they reflected the light from the hall. 

Mike sighed, glancing back at Will. He was totally out of it and if Mike didn’t suspect he’d been drugged, he would have looked peaceful. Mike checked his pulse again, just for peace of mind, and settled into the bean bag chair once more. He was totally drained from having carried an entire other person and the adrenaline rush he’d gotten from the earlier confrontation was wearing off, leaving him exhausted. Mike closed his eyes, sinking into the novelty chair, mind wandering. Much as he tried not to let his thoughts return to Will and the things Zach had said, his imagination seemed to keep finding its way back there. 

What _would_ it be like to have Will’s mouth on him? Did lip rings feel different than bare skin? Would it be methodical, organized like most things in Will’s life? Or would the soft spoken man let loose and go wild? Mike had heard Will cuss in anger earlier that night and wondered what he sounded like cussing in pleasure, his reservations removed, totally free in the throws of passion…

Mike furrowed his brows, angry at himself and uncomfortable. What the fuck kind of thoughts were those? Mike wasn’t gay, why was he thinking about what another man might be like in bed? It was because he was drunk, and because Will kind of looked like a girl. Well, that wasn’t true. But maybe from behind, especially in form fitting slacks, Will could _maybe_ look like one of those cute, androgynous girls Mike sometimes saw around town. What was that haircut called, a pixie cut? Didn’t girls do that? Hell, El had even shaved her head entirely once in high school as a way to spite her father and it hadn’t detracted from Mike’s attraction to her. Will kind of looked like that, like a cute androgynous girl. From certain angles. Sometimes. Mike could ignore the broad shoulders, the delicate but masculine hands and self justify his wandering thoughts, even if he didn’t like or understand them.

Mike huffed, turning to his side and trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. Mike didn’t want to think about it any further. Will wasn’t the first man Mike had had sexual thoughts about but he was certainly the first ‘real’ one. Mike had seen porn, had let his eyes wander from the pretty actresses to the actors. He’d (out of curiosity), watched a few gay pornos as a teen. It was pretty normal for teenagers to wonder, he reasoned. Mike knew he wasn’t the only one of his friends to look it up (for reference purposes only) when trying to figure out how two guys could do it. He couldn’t have been the only one to think about it from time to time. But Mike was straight, he was sure of that. He’d only dated girls, only slept with women, he’d even thought he’d marry one. Mike obviously needed to get laid. His imagination was being inspired by alcohol and the fact that he hadn’t hooked up with anyone since his initial rebound period from El over a year ago now. 

Mike crossed his arms, forcing his mind to quiet down as he listened to Will breath, wishing sleep would hurry up and come. 

**

A shifting sound and a chirp woke Mike from his uncomfortable slumber. His neck was throbbing in pain and Mike rubbed it, still hearing movement and a soft voice from the bed above him. 

“Mama? Hi baby, you hungry little girl?”

A loud meow and trill replied, making Mike glance up. _Mama?_

“Alright, hang on. Give me a minute.”

When Will rolled over and saw Mike on the bean bag next to the bed, he froze. Will’s hair was a mess from sleep, his eyes bleary. Mike offered a smile. 

“Hey, morning,” the freckled man said, stretching out and shaking the foggy, sleepy feeling from himself. 

“Uh, good morning,” Will replied hesitantly, looking around the room (and at himself and Mike). 

The grey tabby climbed onto Will’s hip, flattening it’s ears, tail twitching. It hissed and Will set a hand on it’s back, soothing and quieting the feline. 

“Little Mama, hush,” he said, turning back to Mike. “Sorry, I don’t really rememb-”

Mike held up a hand to stop him. 

“Oh, neither of us was okay to drive so we Ubered back here and passed out,” he said, grateful that Will couldn’t (or claimed not to be able to) remember what happened. 

El would have called Mike out for lying. Mike would have disagreed with that assessment. He was only telling a half truth, not an outright lie. It was to protect the other man. Will didn’t need to remember being potentially drugged, hit, and nearly assaulted, did he?

El would have told him that it wasn’t his decision to make, that Will had a right to know what happened, what had _almost_ happened to him. Mike thought it was cruel. He’d stopped it after all. Mike hadn’t let things escalate to the point of no return. It was over and there wasn’t any point in letting Will know about it, worry about it, when he’d just woken up, was there?

The cat on Will’s hip trilled again, drawing her owner’s attention back to her and Mike rose to his feet. 

“Hey, I’m gonna take off, get going. I need a shower and I have a few things I need to get done before my roommate gets back,” Mike said, saving Will from the uncomfortable conversation of _asking_ him to go. 

Will nodded, stroking the cat behind the ears, eyes averted. 

“Are we still okay for the eighth?” Mike asked cheerfully, avoiding the obvious tension in the room. 

Will blinked up at him, still acting slightly out of it. 

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, fully sitting up. 

“Cool,” Mike said, searching around for his shoes. “I’ll text you,” he said, customer service smile securely in place, his default, uncomfortable defensive state. 

He left quickly, leaving Will to have his privacy. Mike moved through the hall and living room, out the door and through the work spaces. Music was playing softly and the lights were on. Were they automatic, set on a timer? Mike pushed the door open to the lobby and froze, eyes falling on Robin, papers spread around her on the table as she looked up at him from her place on one of the couches. Hey blue-grey eyes widened with surprise and she raised a hand in greeting. 

“Hey Latte Boy, you spend the night?” she asked, brightening.

“Yeah, what time is it? I thought you guys were closed today?” he said, confused as to why she’d be there.

“We are,” Robin said, grinning goofily. “It’s almost 10:30. You guys have a late night?” she questioned, eyebrows raised, an unusually pleased look on her face. 

Mike shrugged, sitting next to her on the couch, head pounding and stomach churning from acid. 

“Kind of. Something happened last night,” he started, wondering if Robin was a safe person to talk to this about. 

“Oh?” she said, leaning back to prop against the armrest. “Go on.”

She seemed almost excited. 

“After you left, well, before that too, there was this guy talking to Will. He was an asshole and I uh,” Mike trailed off, unsure if he should continue. 

“Come on Mike, spill it,” Robin said, urging him to keep talking, her smile faltering a little. 

“He was kind of all over Will at the bar.”

“Well I mean, Mask is a gay bar. People are gonna flirt,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

What? Well that explained the couple outside and the fact that Robin had found another woman to go home with without much difficulty. But hadn’t Steve been with a woman too? Robin had told Mike she thought it might be his kind of crowd, asking if he felt comfortable there and-

Oh. Oh…. _Oh..._

Mike shook his head. He’d deal with that later. 

“No, listen, this guy was like, making Will really uncomfortable and wouldn’t leave him alone. He cornered him outside and I think he drugged Will. He was trying to force him into a car and Will passed out on the way back here and I couldn’t wake him up,” Mike blurted out, trusting Robin enough to tell her what happened. 

“Wait, what?” she demanded, totally gobsmacked, her mouth hanging slightly open. 

“Yeah, some asshole named Zach-”

“That abusive prick? He was there and he drugged Will?” she asked, eyes darkening with anger. 

“You know him?” Mike asked, confused.

“He’s Will’s ex. Total piece of shit. I can't believe he did that. Well, I _can_ believe it,” she growled, all mirth gone from her face and voice. “He’s a total scumbag. You stopped him?”

“Yeah, and brought Will back here to sleep it off,” Mike confirmed, nodding. 

“Zach is such slime,” she snarled, clenching her fists. “I’d hope we’d never see him again.”

“What else has he done?” Mike asked, not knowing if he had a right to know but wanting to anyway, spurred on by morbid curiosity and growing concern. 

“He’s a controlling, manipulative troll. Used to beat on Will a lot, wouldn’t let him leave the house by himself most days. When Will started working for us, Zach would hang around the store, trying to make sure Will only worked on women. If Will ever had a male client, Zach made sure it was always ‘strictly professional’. He never trusted Will but I think it’s because Zach was fucking around behind Will’s back any chance he got. Will called Steve ‘Mr. Harrington’ for months even after we got him away from that asshole,” she explained, still furious. 

“We couldn’t pay Will at first but I think he was just happy to be out of the house, you know? Well Zach got it in his head that Steve was playing Will in other ways than cash,” Robin said, making a jerking off motion. “Of course, that wasn’t true but Zach didn’t believe Will so he’d like, punish Will by tapping his cat’s legs together with electrical tape and shit.”

Mike was totally taken aback, disgusted by what he was hearing.

“Why didn’t Will leave?” he asked, anger pooling in his stomach like cold water, chilling him.

“Well he tried about four or five times that I know of, but his older brother moved to New York to go to school there while Will was still in high school and his mom remarried a few years back and moved away too. He was alone, without support, you know? Where was he supposed to go? Zach controlled all the finances and owned the car, it’s not like Will could up and leave just like that. He only managed to finally get out for good when Steve renovated the back for him and Steve and I got a restraining order to keep Zach away. Zach attacked Steve once so it was pretty easy to get the restraining order to keep him away from the store and since Will lives here now, Zach can’t come sniffing around causing trouble for him. I’m so pissed he showed up at Mask and had the balls to approach Will like that. I hope you kicked his ass.”

Mike hadn’t, but he sure as shit would the next time he saw Zach. 

“It took Will forever to get over that shit. I think he still hides money somewhere other than the bank. Zach would find any excuse to smack him around too. Dirty dishes, shit out of place, too familiar with clients, talking out of turn, you name it. Will was a nervous wreck when we hired him. Poor kid wouldn’t even look us in the eye. I thought this was behind us,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “Jesus, this is gonna set him back so much.”

Mike felt absolutely revolted by what Robin had told him. What kind of person did that to someone else? It, unfortunately, explained so much about Will. Mike didn’t realize he’d been clenching his fists until they started cramping up in pain. He unclenched them, looking at Robin who was near tears with how angry she was. Mike laid a hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently, trying to comfort her. 

“I don’t know if he remembers what happened last night, he was pretty out of it and seemed confused to see me this morning,” he said, trying to reassure her that Will wouldn’t lose all the progress he had made. 

She blinked at Mike, fighting back angry tears. 

“You helped him out and got him home. That was a good thing you did, Mike. Why did you spend the night though?” she asked as an afterthought.

“I was afraid he’d aspirate in his sleep. I didn’t know if he drank too much or if Zach gave him something but I couldn’t just leave him alone like that. I got him set up and then slept on the bean bag chair next to the bed till he woke up,” Mike explained, still rubbing comforting circles into Robin’s shoulder. 

“You’re a good guy, Mike. I knew there was a reason Will liked you, why we all like you,” she said, swallowing and turning to look back at the papers on the table. 

“Thanks,” Mike said awkwardly, removing his hand and shifting his gaze to the papers. “Applications?” he asked, glancing them over. 

“Yeah, but I’m not really in the mood to think about apprentices anymore. I’m more in the mood to get some additional security cameras in here and a damn guard dog. One of those one’s trained in German who knows how to kill on command, you know?”

 _Additional cameras?_ Mike looked around, noticing for the first time the little fish eyed cameras by the ceiling and in the corners. Maybe they should get a few more for Will’s area in the back. Maybe a few around the employee parking area and back entrance if they didn’t already have them. A restraining order could only do so much and a pissed off, abusive ex who saw his victim out and about with someone else, who had their plans thwarted by that other person, might pose a real threat. Mike did not like that idea at all. He looked at Robin, inclined to agree with her assessment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, sorry that I haven't been replying to comments the way I would like too. I'm just a little stressed out and short on time right now, but please know I appreciate each and every one of you who take the time to leave them for me. They mean the world to me and give me encouragement to keep writing. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted, I'm hoping by Thursday but I'm having issues with it and need to rework it a lot more intensively than some of the other chapters so far. Please hang in there and be patient. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and the story so far. As always, take care of yourselves.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will spend time together outside of a work environment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW strongly suggestive sexual content, references to past abuse, references to animal abuse, fallout from past abuse. Proceed at your own discretion.

The rain pelted down, relentless and unforgiving as Mike hurried through it and to the door of the tattoo parlor. The temperature had dropped in the last week, spring's death rattle as it were. Mike had been forced to dig through all the winter clothes he’d packed away in the attic of the town house (he only mistepped and fell through the insulation once, thank you were much). A minor inconvenience and one he could deal with so he didn’t have to ‘man up’ and tough it out without long sleeves to protect him from the elements. 

The door swung open and Mike was immensely grateful for the reprieve from the wind and rain. He glanced up in surprise when an unfamiliar voice greeted him in that robotic, customer service way as he stepped through the door. 

“Hi, welcome to Stranger Inks, how can I help you today?”

Mike blinked at the girl behind the counter. She was smiling at him brightly, waiting for a response. 

“Erica?” he asked, confused to see Lucas’ sister seated at the desk usually manned by Steve or Robin. 

Her smile dropped and she sighed when she recognized him. 

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

He approached, unsure for a moment. 

“I have an appointment,” he said, still confused by her presence _here_ of all places. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I work here,” she snapped, rolling her eyes, the customer service persona gone and replaced with the bratty younger sister he’d always known her as. 

_Well at least she has the attitude right,_ he thought sarcastically. 

“She’s my new apprentice,” Robin said, popping her head up from beneath the desk where Erica sat. “You know each other?”

“He’s friends with my brother,” Erica explained, looking down at Robin who was still crouched on the floor.

“You met him the first time I came in here,” Mike elaborated, leaning over the counter to see what Robin was doing down there on the floor. 

She had about a dozen cables spread around her, none connected to anything. 

“Oh, that guy who wouldn’t let me pierce his dick? He’s your brother?” Robin asked, glancing back down at the task before her. 

“Ew, what?” Erica asked, scrunching her nose in disgust.

“Hey, I said he _didn’t_ let me do it,” Robin reminded her apprentice, flipping through an instruction manual of some kind. 

“Yeah well, he told me about this place and I saw their ad online and sent in a resume. Nailed the interview of course, and now I work here,” Erica said, giving Mike a cavalier look of pride. 

“I thought Lucas said you were in school for art history?” Mike asked, frowning at the young woman. 

“This _is_ art, you walnut,” Erica shot back, annoyed. 

“Yeah, you walnut. It’s art,” Robin chimed in, still fumbling with the cords around her. 

Mike looked back down at the grey eyed woman. It didn't look like she was making much progress with her project. 

“You okay?” he asked, curious.

“Yeah, just trying to link up our new security system with the existing one,” she grumbled, rising to her feet. “Fuck it, where’s Steve when I need him?”

Robin brushed her palms against her jeans and huffed in defeat, scooting around Erica to move towards Mike. He took a step back to let her by so she could dig through her purse, looking for her phone. She extracted it and started typing furiously, looking to Mike when she finished.

“I’ll have to sign you in later, kiddo. Right now I’ve got everything disconnected. You can head back if you want. Will’s expecting you,” she said with a sigh. 

“Oh, okay,” Mike said, stepping aside so Robin could continue pacing around, still typing and muttering in agitation to herself. 

It was the first time that he hadn’t been escorted to the work areas, it was kind of nice. The employees knew him well enough and trusted him to let him come and go unsupervised. It made Mike happy to know that. They were seeing him as more than a client, he had been bumped up to the ‘friend’ category. Will had even sent him a friend request on Facebook two days after the group’s night out at Mask, Robin and Steve following suit shortly after. There was group chat where they all texted on and off, mostly small talk and memes back and forth. 

When Will sent him a private message, outside of the group chat, it was a relief. Will hadn’t withdrawn from him after that night, that he’d actually leaned into the friendship instead of away from it. Mike found it comforting to be sent links to amusing new articles and cute animal gifs and Will would send back dumb jokes and drink recipies they should try the next time they all got together. Will didn’t seem to have any lasting effects or even real memories from what had happened that night and Mike was grateful for that. 

Mike had wanted to be honest and upfront about what had occured, he knew Robin was waiting for him to fill Will in on what happened, knowing she couldn’t talk to him about it, couldn’t check in with Will until he’d been made fully aware. She’d send him messages at least three times a day asking if he’d done it yet but Mike always had an excuse. He started typing the message more than once but always deleted it, encased in doubt. Will was just so… so delicate and withdrawn as it was. He’d always been a little off putting, standoffish and from what Robin had described, it had been even worse before Mike ever met him. In the end, the decision was made for him. 

_Hey, I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to be a burden._

Mike had looked at the message, confused. 

_**???** _

_At the bar. I meant to thank you for taking me home. I don’t really remember a lot, but I know you ended up babysitting me. I’m sorry about that, I know it didn’t give the best impression. I hope it doesn’t deter you from wanting to come out with us in the future. I promise I’m not always such a sloppy drunk =/_

Mike hesitated, knowing this was coming. He didn’t like that Will thought that he’d done something wrong when what had happened was completely out of his control. He considered how to word this without doing more harm than good. 

_**Don’t even worry about it. It was that asshole Zach. I’m pretty sure you were fine till he showed up** _

_Yeah, I’m sorry about that. He just makes me upset and I think I drank too much after that nonsense when he offered to buy the drinks. It’s a long story, I’m sorry._

Mike chewed his lip, unsure. 

El always told him that friends don’t lie. Even if it was for the sake of kindness? He took a breath, wondering if he was making a mistake. 

**_I mean, you were fine till the parking lot. I don’t think it was the alcohol_ **

A beat passed. 

_What do you mean?_

**_Well, I mean, I don’t have my degree yet but I’m pretty sure he gave you something when you went out to smoke. It’s not a big deal, I told him off and got you home okay. It’s not like I blame you for passing out or think you’re sloppy drunk lol. I’m pretty sure I’ve had to be carried out of bars before and I don’t even have the excuse of some dipshit dosing me with something. Unless you count me as the dipshit in question lol_ **

More than a beat passed. Mike tried again. 

_**You okay?** _

_Yeah._

_I’m sorry, I don’t really remember. Did something happen? Did he say anything?_

_**Not really. I looked like you guys were fighting and he started shit talking when I broke it up. I dunno, I don’t really remember either. I think I tipped the Uber driver like, 30 bucks if that tells you anything about how much I had to drink that night lol** _

Fuck El and her unremitting truth. Will didn’t need to know what was said, that Mike remembered it. It would humiliate him. Well, it would have humiliated Mike. It was time for a subject change. 

_Hey, did you see that link Steve sent earlier with the seal stealing some guys fish?_

And so it had gone on like that. Mike trying to avoid the situation, Will accepting his avoidance tactics politely. That had been a week ago. Mike didn’t know if Robin had gotten around to talking to Will yet, but with her trying to set up new security cameras, he imagined she must have said something to justify it. Either way, Will hadn’t brought it up again. 

Now, outside of Will’s work space, Mike knocked on the wall, announcing himself as he entered. Will was playing a tower defense game on his laptop but he paused it, smiling as Mike pushed the curtain aside. 

“Hey,” the light eyed man greeted, spinning his stool around. 

It was the least formal greeting he’d ever offered Mike and the freckled man returned the smile. 

“Hey yourself,” he said, taking off the rain jacket and draped it across the back of the unoccupied chair where he’d end up sitting eventually. “How you been?”

“Oh, alright,” Will said, eyes falling on the rugby style sweater Mike was wearing. “No t-shirt today?” he questioned, a mild look of solicitude crossing his face. 

“No, it’s a little cold out,” Mike explained, a little but off. 

Will never wore t-shirts, even in the middle of a heat wave. Why did he care what Mike was wearing?

“Is that a problem?” the curly haired man asked, perturbed by Will’s fixation on his clothing choices. 

Will shook his head.

“No, not really. Do you have an undershirt on?” the artist asked, rolling his stool back to the desk to get his gloves and mask. 

“Uh, no, not today. I’ve got a button down underneath,” he said, tugging the collar sweater to indicate the white shirt beneath.

“Oh,” Will paused, glancing back at Mike. “I don’t really want you to roll the sleeves up, it messes with blood flow. I mean, it’s not a tourniquet or anything, it can just make things messy with the blood,” he explained.

Mike frowed. He hadn’t thought of that when he got dressed for the day. He could go home and change clothes but that would eat up maybe forty, forty five minutes or so of work time. Surely he could just take the sweater and button down off, Mike knew people had work done in various states of undress in the studio all the time. He remembered a particularly horrifying story about a client having their entire asshole tattooed like a spider, the web extending out and over the buttocks. Will had definitely seen worse. 

“Should I just take the shirts off?” He asked, watching Will consider. 

The smaller man was still turned away from him, fiddling with something on his desk. After a moment, Will cleared his throat and turned, mask in hand. 

“I have a smock somewhere if that would make you feel more comfortable,” he said, pulling the mask on.

“It’s okay,” Mike said, starting to pull the sweater over his head and off. 

Will turned away again and began pulling on his gloves. Mike hung the sweater on the back of the chair with his jacket and began working on the buttons of his shirt. He pulled it off and laid it on top of the other items, settling into the chair and placed his arm out palm up on the armrest for Will who was still turned away. When the artist finally rotated his stool to face Mike, his honey brown eyes darted up briefly before settling firmly on Mike’s arm. For the briefest moment, Mike felt a hint of discomfort. It wasn’t because of anything Will had actually _done_ , he was as detached and professional as always once the gloves were on. It was that flick of the eyes, the small look before settling in to work. 

Mike knew Will was gay, he’d known for a while. It didn’t bother him, in fact it hardly even crossed his mind. Will was just… Will. Mike didn’t really label him the same way he did other people (and himself). But that short scan of Mike’s naked chest before honing in on what he was working on made Mike feel… off. When El had told Mike she wasn’t attracted to him, that blow to the ego had hurt, pretty badly if he was being honest. Will glancing him over made Mike wonder if maybe _Will_ found him attractive. 

Noticing the look that Will had given him made Mike flush. Mike zoned in on Will’s face, trying to get a read on the small artist. For his part, Will was focused on his work. His eyes were the only visible feature not hidden by the mask and they were as indecipherable as ever, brow furrowed as he concentrated. Mike wished that he had a mask. The only defense he had against any expression he might be making was his own self control and the slowly creeping flush rising on his own face was betraying Mike despite his best efforts to conceal it.

Mike felt himself tense, gooseflesh rising on him as Will touched and worked his skin. What was wrong with him? Will had had his hands on Mike for hours at this point and Mike hadn’t felt embarrassed (or aroused) before. Will had never done anything even _remotely_ unprofessional or out of line. Mike wondered if the pale man had ever wanted to. Had he ever wanted to run a hand across skin other than Mike’s arm? Skin that was off limits? Mike imagined that if Will did it would be tentative, soft. Maybe just the pads of his fingers, brushing for just a moment, whispering ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler’ as he did. Mike didn’t think that he’d resist, he was so touch starved after a year alone. 

The freckled man shifted, letting his eyes wander from Will’s tranquil face to the rest of him. Mike never got a good look at Will beneath his sweaters and loose fitting button up shirts. Mike knew the man was slim, probably even paler beneath his clothes than he was on his hands and face. At least those parts got some sun exposure. Mike doubted Will had ever gone to the beach or sun bathed by the pool, he didn’t even seem to own anything shorter than three quarters length at the sleeve.

Mike remembered the feel of that narrow waist in his grip while Mike had propped him up. He knew that beneath the jeans Will sported smooth, toned muscles. Mike had felt them beneath his finger as he had searched for the keys. The thought of wondering what those legs would feel like wrapped around him, squeezing hard as that impassive face slung back, lips parted, breath coming hard and uneven passed through Mike’s mind briefly before he shut it down.

Mike blinked the image away. He didn’t even have the excuse of being drunk this time. Was it because he was lonely, desperate for affection? Even if he was, it was still weird to be projecting those feelings onto another man. Not that he thought there was anything wrong with it, it just wasn’t who _Mike_ was (was it?). Mike wasn’t sure anymore.

Mike was still as attracted to women as he’d ever been and he’d always had a healthy appreciation for men, but Will was just… different. There was something about this awkward, reserved man that drew Mike in. Mike was always happy to see a new text from him, found the curve of his lips and the tenor of his voice more appealing every day. He even felt his pulse spike when he thought about seeing Will, whether it was by surprise when he walked into Level Up Latte for caffeine for the Stranger Inks crew, and earlier today when Mike had been walking to the parlor for his session.

Will didn’t seem to notice Mike’s wandering mind, concerning himself with adding the tones of blue, purple, and yellow to the background and undertones of the bird. Was he a little red around the ears or was that Mike’s imagination?

As the session was winding down and Will was wiping the last of the blood and ink away, Mike suddenly blurted out “Hey, do you wanna try out any of those recipes I sent you?”

Will raised his brown eyes from his work to meet Mike’s.

“What?”

“The drink recipes. Do you wanna try any out tonight? You’re closed Sundays, right?”

Will nodded, turning his honey eyes away from Mike’s face and back to his arm.

“Yeah, we’re closed tomorrow. I could do that,” he confirmed (a slight tremor in his voice?).

“We don’t have to, I know it’s short notice,” Mike said, back peddling.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind the short notice, I don’t have plans. It’s just that Robin and Steve aren’t going to be available tonight. They have a bimonthly appointment to visit Robin’s grandma in Dayton. She likes Steve, he reminds her of her brother I think. So it would just be the two of us hanging out,” Will explained, the cloth wiping clean now as he removed it. 

“Cool. More alcohol for us then,” Mike grinned, leaning forward and looking his arm over, admiring the work. “What do you wanna try?”

Wil pulled away, pushing his rolling stool back to his desk and tossed his gloves in the hazardous material disposal. He hesitated a moment before pulling the mask off and discarding it as well. When he turned back his lips were parted, like he was irresolute about what he was going to say.

“I have a few bottles of summer wine. It’s local. If you can bring a bottle of brandy and some fruit we can do sangrias,” he suggested. 

Mike stood, moving to pull his button up shirt on.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ve never had a sangria.”

“Well then, you’re in for a treat,” Will said, handing Mike his sweater, eyes trained firmly on Mike’s face.

“What time?” the curly haired man asked, accepting the shirt and slipping it on.

“We close at nine, stop by anytime after that. I’ll be around. Just text me and I’ll let you in.”

Mike nodded, making a note to stop at the store for the requested items before going home. 

“Awesome. I’ll see you in a few hours then,” he said, excited for more one on one time with the puzzle of a man that was the quiet tattoo artist. 

**

Mike got all of his errands done in a reasonable amount of time so after he’d done the shopping, he spent a little extra time getting ready to see Will. It felt more like getting ready for a date than anything and even Dustin commented on it, asking if he’d finally met someone. It was a little embarrassing but only because he had to tell Dustin no, he hadn’t met anyone, he was just going to spend some time with a friend. 

Still, freshly showered and shaved, hair washed and styled, dabbing on cologne and aftershave did resemble Mike’s date routine. He slipped a blazer over his shirt, having changed out of the sweater. Mike had packed the reusable grocery bag with oranges, lemons, granny smith apples, and a bottle of Copper & Kings Butchertown Brandy. Mike didn’t think he was missing anything so he played a few rounds of Super Smash Bros with Dustin before heading out, feeling unusually anxious. 

He headed over to the parlor softly before nine. It took maybe twenty minutes to get there from the townhouse and this time Mike parked in the back of the shop instead of around the corner. Since Stranger Inks had been a residential home at one point, there was still a carport in the back for the employees. Will had texted him, letting him know that Robin and Steve had left for the day a little early and to not worry about boxing anyone in and besides, it was safer than parking on the street where any drunk leaving a bar could hit his vehicle. 

Mike sat in his car for a moment before pulling out his phone and texting Will that he was there. HIs phone chirped with a reply and a minute later he saw a side utility door pop open and Will leaning out. 

“Hey,” the small brunet called, waving a hand. “Come on in through here.”

Mike smiled, exiting his car and grabbing the bag he’d brought. Will held the door open, stepping aside to make room for the taller man. The hair on the back of Mike’s neck stood on end and he touched his neck, glancing behind himself as he stepped into the building, scanning the darkened street. He brushed the feeling off and turned his attention to Will, still patiently holding the door for him. 

That was weird. It had almost felt like someone was watching him, but the only person around was Will who smiled up at him serenely. Mike stepped fully inside and Will shut the door, locking it behind them with a click. 

“The apartment is unlocked, you can put that stuff in the kitchen,” Will told them as they moved, Will letting Mike lead. 

The apartment was clean, dimly lit with only the light over the stove and a reading lamp on. Mike set the bag down next to a small stack of mail and turned to face Will. The quiet artist was pulling a cutting board and knife from his drawers and set them down next to the bag. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, quickly scooping up the mail and placing it in a basket on top of the refrigerator. 

Mike glanced around. 

_What mess?_

Will was back to spreading his tools and opened the bag, removing the fruit to take to the sink to wash. He paused at the bottle of Butchertown. 

“Oh, you didn’t need to buy this. E+J would have worked fine,” Will said apologetically.

“I wanted to. If I’m gonna try sangrias for the first time I didn’t wanna use cheap liquor. Let’s do it right,” Mike said, shrugging and setting the bottle aside. “Can I help?” he asked as Will placed a strainer in the sink. 

Will looked over at him, eyes wide in surprise. 

“You’re my guest, Mr. Wheeler. I can take care of this,” he said, half smiling. “But if you insist, I have the wine and jiggers over there,” he said, motioning with his head towards an area near his spice rack. “It’s the Pinot Noir, Sugarcreek Winery. There are a few shakers over there somewhere as well.”

Will had an impressive bar setup. Beer glasses of every shape and size were lined up neatly next to a rack where martini, margarita, and wine glasses hung by their stems, tumblers and shot glasses beneath them. Mike picked up a few jiggers, not knowing what size Will was wanting. He grabbed two wine glasses and set them near Will before grabbing the bottle of wine Will had asked for and a glass pitcher. Will looked over at him, still washing the fruit. He reached out, handing a lemon to Mike.

“Would you be kind enough to cut these into wedges, please?”

“Sure,” Mike said, taking the fruit and starting to work.

It was relaxing, almost fun to work in this assembly line style, Will washing and Mike cutting. By the time all the prep was done and Will was measuring the ingredients, Mike had relaxed. He was making himself helpful where he could, not wanting to be a burden, even if he was a guest. Will, though he’d seemed unused to having help, accepted it as it was offered, giving gentle direction for the tasks. Even the cat had emerged into the relaxed atmosphere, rubbing against her master’s legs.

Will looked down at her, soft smile on his face. 

“Hang on, Mama. I’ll give you your dinner in a minute,” he assured the feline who trilled at him, demanding her supper. 

“I can feed her,” Mike offered, having completed his assigned tasks. “Where’s her food?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Will said quickly, shaking his head. “I’ll get her fed and put away.”

Mike remembered what Robin had said about what Zach had done to Will’s cat. Will was acting defense about the animal, apologetic for her existence. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to put her away. She lives here, I’m a guest in her house,” Mike said, offering a smile. “Besides, I like cats. Point me in the right direction, I’ll get her fed.”

Will looked surprised but pleased by that answer. He glanced around and motioned towards a cupboard. 

“Cans are over there, her bowl is in the laundry room,” he said, eyes bright with appreciation. 

Mike nodded, moving to the cupboard in question and pulling out a tin can. He cracked the lid and the cat trotted over, stopping short while she examined the person holding the can. 

“Here kitty kitty, c’mon,” Mike encouraged her, walking towards the laundry room. 

“Go on, Mama. Mike’s a friend,” Will assured the cat, casting a smile at the dark haired man. 

Mike felt warm when that smile was directed at him and he looked down at the cat, clicking his tongue to draw her attention. He led the way, the small tabby following at distance. The laundry room smelled strongly of detergent and there was a neatly stacked pile of folded laundry on top of the dryer. Mike found the cat’s bowl, the words ‘Little Mama’ painted on the side. He filled the bowl with the food and set it down, the cat watching from the doorway, a silent sentinel. 

“Well, it’s here if you want it,” he said, depositing the tin in a trash can and making his way back to the kitchen, avoiding striking distance in case the tabby decided she wanted another pound of his flesh. 

When he reentered the space, Will had finished mixing and garnishing the drinks. It was almost a shame to drink them. They were pretty, something Will and Mike had made together. Will looked up, his fine brown hair pushed back from his face and he offered Mike a glass. 

“Did she scratch you?” he asked, motioning to Mike’s still healing hand.

“Not this time. I think she’s warming up to me.”

Will chuckled, leaning against the counter. 

“I found Little Mama when I was in high school. I was volunteering with a TNR group working with feral cat colonies in the neighborhood. She’s never been fully tamed, her wild spirit’s never been broken.”

“TNR?”

“Trap, neuter, release,” Will explained, sniffing the sangria. “We’d work to help reduce the feral cat populations by trapping, neutering, getting them vaccinated, and then releasing them again. Sometimes we’d place friendly ones with barn owners to help keep rodent populations under control but most were too wild to ever get placed. Little Mama was only about six months old when we trapped her and she was nursing a litter of kittens and already pregnant again. She had this tumor on her ear, so she needed extra vetting and surgery and the kittens needed to wean. When we tried to release her back to the colony, they didn’t accept her after being gone so long for the recovery time. So she ended up with me,” he said, eyes downcast. “She’s a feral cat through and through. I wouldn’t take it personally if she doesn’t warm up to you.”

_Probably didn’t help her perception of people to have someone torturing her and tapping her legs together._

“I’ll win her over eventually,” Mike assured the other man, holding up his scarring hand. “I’m not bothered by a few scratches. You’re talking about it like you don’t do TNR anymore. When did you stop?”

Will shifted, eyes still averted, uncomfortable. 

“Oh, after high school I just didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t really able to keep volunteering. Life got in the way.”

 _Or someone else did,_ Mike thought bitterly.

“Anyway, a toast, Mr. Wheeler,” Will said, raising his glass and eyes, trying to look cheerful, pushing away the unpleasantness of the conversation that hung in the air like mist. 

Mike picked up his glass, holding it up in the ‘cheers’ position. 

“What are we toasting?” he asked, meeting eyes with Will. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Us? These lovely drinks? I don’t care what we’re toasting, I’m just enjoying being around you,” Will replied, looking a little bashful. 

Mike grinned, tapping his glass against Will’s. 

“To good drinks and good friends,” he said, watching Will’s expression.

The drinks were sweet and fruity, a hint of spice, and Mike noticed Will had thrown a stick of cinnamon in the pitcher. They sat together at the bar stools at the counter, drinking and talking until a pleasant buzz colored both their faces. Mike hadn’t been wine drunk since he was a teen and had stolen a bottle out of his mom’s collection, but with brandy added in and a pitcher shared between them, he wasn’t entirely surprised. Will swayed a little on the stool and stood up, moving to pick up two tumblers and the bottle of Butchertown. He poured two drinks and handed one to Mike before moving to the couch and settling in. 

Mike followed, setting his glass on a coaster and leaning back. Will had turned on the TV and was powering up his Playstation, shifting through his apps until he found Spotify, selecting a playlist and working on his drink. Mike could have sat on the opposite side of the couch from Will, or even the armchair. Instead, he’d sat right next to the other man, letting his shoulder brush Will’s as he leaned back. Will settled in, humming along with the music. 

The feeling of their shoulders touching, the sound of Will humming, and the smell of his aftershave were all pleasant. Mike looked the other man over, turning his head just enough to see him from the corner of his eye. Will looked relaxed, his eyes closed, that soft humming parting his lips slightly. Mike looked at those full lips and resisted the urge to wet his own. Will’s head was tilted back and his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed or hummed a particularly difficult melody. Mike wanted to touch that neck, to feel Will’s adam’s apple move under his lips as Will sighed and moaned. 

Mike reached out and stroked a hand against the curve of Will’s neck, brushing soft brown hair away from the other man’s shoulder. Will opened his eyes and turned into the touch, looking over at Mike who still hadn’t turned fully to face him. Mike let his fingers keep tracing over Will’s skin, through the bottom of his hair. Will didn’t say anything or move to pull away. He was as still as a statue, just watching Mike. 

Long moments passed this way. Mike kept stroking Will, his hair, the curve of where his shoulder met his neck, Mike’s heart pounding the entire time. _What the fuck was he doing?_

Will was quiet, soft brown eyes watching, waiting. When Will finally did move, leaning into the touch, Mike let his hand on Will’s neck entwine in Will’s hair, encouraging him. 

Will’s lips were soft and firm, undemanding and gentle. He kissed Mike like you would a treasure, slow and with care. Mike groaned deep in his throat, Will’s stubble rubbing against his face, their noses touching. Will smelled amazing, like fruit and sandalwood and rain. Mike tightened his grip in that fine, feathery hair and Will braced himself, palm flat against Mike’s arm, moving so he could get a better angle. Will’s lips parted and his tongue slipped out, brushing lightly against Mike’s mouth, asking permission. Mike opened for him and moaned throatily when he felt not one, but _two_ metal studs brush against him. _Will had his tongue pierced twice?_ Mike didn’t even know you could do that. 

He melted into the kiss, every fearful, self hating thought fleeing as Will ate at him with a hunger. Mike surprised himself with the enthusiasm he gave back to the other man, squirming and shifting, trying to pull Will closer while not breaking apart. Will obliged him, crawling onto the other man’s lap and using the strength of his legs to hold himself up as he moved, slowly lowering down onto Mike’s growing erection, nestling it beneath his ass as he ground and shifted against the dark haired man. 

Mike’s hips jerked up in response and Will groaned into his mouth, a low, needy sound. He sat fully on Mike, letting him move and thrust at his leisure. Force of habit made Mike raise a hand to Will’s chest, but there were no breasts there to cup. Only a smooth, muscled expanse of chest beneath the fabric of Will’s long sleeved shirt met Mike’s touch. Mike gasped, the feeling so different than what he was used to. He rubbed a hand against it and Will shuddered when Mike’s fingers ran over a nipple. It felt strange, hard and pebbled with desire, but that wasn’t it. Mike toyed with it for a moment while Will moaned, hands wrapping in Mike’s dark mass of curls. 

Oh. It was pierced. What Mike was feeling was a metal bar with a bead on each end. He rubbed it again, making Will writhe into the touch before he moved his hand, eager to check the other side. To no surprise, it was the same. Mike pinched it experimentally, rolling the hardened nub and piercing between his fingers, through the fabric. Will was panting against Mike’s jaw, trying to kiss him while still breathing and rubbing himself against Mike’s trapped erection. Mike rolled his hips up in abandon, dry humping the other man like he was a god damn teenager. 

Mike let a hand slip down, beneath the hem of Will’s shirt, trailing up Will’s back and over the taunt muscles, kneading at the skin and flesh. Will sighed, leaning into the touch and pulling away from the kiss for the first time since they started. The smaller man leaned back, using the palm of his hands against Mike’s knees to balance himself as he rocked against the freckled man. For his part, Mike used one hand to work and massage Will’s back beneath his shirt and the other to toy and play with his pierced nippled over the fabric. 

Will looked amazing perched on top of Mike, moaning at the touches and moving in a parody of what he’d look like riding Mike if their clothing wasn’t in the way. Mike relaxed against the couch and watched the other man move as he touched him. This was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, better than any strip club, even with every item of clothing still in place. 

The quiet, normally subdued artist was moving languidly, taking his time, enjoying himself as Mike rolled his hips up against the smaller man. Will’s fine, light brown hair was a little mushed from where Mike gripped it and his usually pale skin had a soft red flush starting beneath the collar of his shirt and moving up. Mike changed course with his hand on Will’s chest towards his hip, holding and massaging while he thumbed at the hem of Will’s shirt. When Mike slipped a hand beneath the shirt to touch Will’s stomach, the other man twitched, lifting his hips up. 

Mike lowered his gaze to the bulge in Will’s jeans for the first time, his pulse spiking at the sight. Mike had never touched another man’s cock before and he wondered what it would be like. Would it be as pretty as the rest of Will? Mike wanted to find out, but was afraid. He should start slower, handling Will there seemed… pretty advanced. Mike moved his hands to pull at Will’s shirt, trying to lift it, wanting to look at Will without all the fabric obscuring his view. Will didn’t seem to notice at first, still enthralled by the feeling of Mike shifting and moving beneath him. As the cotton shirt moved higher on him, exposing him, Will’s movements stopped and the hands he’d been using to balance himself shot to Mike’s wrists, halting him. 

“Wait, stop,” Will whispered, eyes wide with sudden fear. 

The dark haired man blinked up at him. What was wrong? Will was so sexy, Mike just wanted to look at him. When Will’s grip tightened, asking him not to continue, Mike froze too. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong but Will’s sudden change in demeanor, his stiffness and discomfort was enough to halt all of Mike’s movements. 

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, his own voice low and hoarse.

Will stared down at him, unmoving, eyes still wide and frozen like a deer in the headlights. He swallowed twice, trying to find his voice. 

“Is this too fast?” Mike asked, forcing his body to stop responding to the warm, solid weight in his lap.

Will didn’t speak, but his lips had begun to shake, a small tremble starting in his body. Mike looked him over, bewildered. Just a few minutes ago Will had been moving against him, enthusiastic and aroused. Now he looked like a scared kid. Mike raised a hand to touch the other man’s face and Will flinched, jerking away from the touch, recoiling. Mike let his hand drop. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Will said, looking away. “I think you should go,” he said, quickly crawling off Mike’s lap and retreating to the kitchen nook.

Mike sat motionless, confused. He took a moment to collect himself before rising to his feet and looking at Will. What had happened? Mike thought they’d been having a great time. What had changed, what had made _Will_ change like a switch had been flipped? Why did he look scared, flinch away when Mike tried to touch him? Mike picked up his jacket, glancing at Will again. 

The other man had his back turned to Mike, hands flat against the counter, trying to control his breathing. 

“Hey, if I did something, I’m sorry,” Mike offered, feeling unsure. 

Will shook his head and moved further away. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler. Can, can you just go, please?” Will asked, voice shaking. 

“Yeah, you got it,” Mike agreed, still alarmed but now also slightly embarrassed. 

Will didn’t respond, so Mike did as he was asked. The confusion, the embarrassment of having thrown himself at another man and then getting totally shut down was making him burn red. Christ, what was wrong with him? What was the character flaw that caused so much rejection?

Mike got in his car, putting it in gear and backing it up, pulling away from the building. He frowned. 

_What the fuck?_

Mike pulled over and turned the car off. He walked in a circle around it before finding the flat. Mike crouched down, looking at the tire in annoyance. It wasn’t like it was just a little deflated, it was totally flat, leaving Mike driving on just rubber. Great. Had he run over broken glass?

Mike sighed, popping his trunk to pull out his jack and spare tire. 

_What a fantastic way to end the night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, this chapter was an absolute nightmare to write, rework, and edit. I spent probably about 6 or 7 hours trying to make it into something decent and I still don't like it lol. I hope you all do though. 
> 
> From this point onward, the story is popping from a M rating to E. I will of course add warnings at the beginning of chapters to let you know if you need to skip any content that would make you uncomfortable. From here on out the story will not only have explicit sexual content, but it will have graphic descriptions of abuse both domestic and sexual. I promise it's not all angst from here on out, it's just the more Mike learns about Will, the more of his violent and troubled past is going to be revealed. So please, read the tags and warnings. 
> 
> As always, kudos or comments are appreciated. I swear I'm going to try and make time this week to respond. I've just been under a lot of stress as of late and haven't found it in me to sit down and thank you all individually for your comments. Please know that I appreciate each and every one of you. Take care of yourselves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will apologizes and Mike accepts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter includes oral sex, mutual masturbation, and coarse language. There is explicit sexual content in this chapter. Please only read if you are comfortable with that. Proceed at your own discretion.

Mike waited patiently at the counter of the auto repair shop, yawning as he struggled to fight off the sleep that clung to him. He’d woken early to take the tire over to be looked at, hoping it could be repaired, slightly annoyed because he’d just bought a new set of tires less than 6 months ago. The mechanic was looking the tire over, talking to himself as he did. When he finally turned to address Mike, he nodded. 

“Yeah, we can patch it. It’s a clean cut, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Thanks man, you have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I dunno what happened, I must have run over some glass or a nail or something,” Mike explained, relieved to hear he wouldn’t have to purchase a whole new tire. 

“I mean, this cut is pretty big. I guess a large enough piece of glass could do it, but it was intentional to me. Looks like someone slashed it, man. Here, look,” the mechanic explained, motioning to the hole. “Plus glass usually gets stuck. Nothing here,” he said, showing Mike. 

“Slashed? You serious?” Mike asked, bewildered. “Who’d do that?”

“I dunno, kids maybe?” the other man suggested with a shrug. 

Mike frowned. Parking in the carport was supposed to be safer than on the street. He’d have to warn Steve and Robin since they parked there almost every day. He rubbed his temples in vexation. 

“Alright, how long is it gonna take to patch?” he asked, immensely grateful that he’d gotten up early to beat the crowds. 

“Maybe half an hour, give or take.”

“Okay, sounds good,” he said with a nod, moving to sit in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area. 

Mike closed his eyes and sighed, ready to zone out or maybe even nap while he waited. A soft chirp alerted him to a message and he shifted, digging his phone out of his pocket. 

Will.

_I’m sorry about last night. Is it okay if I call? W. Byers_

Mike stared at the message, anxiety coiling in his stomach like a knot of serpents. He looked around, glad he was the only person in the waiting area. 

_**Yeah, sure** _

Moments later his phone lit up, vibrating and ringing softly. Mike took a breath before answering it. 

“Hello?”

“It’s Will Byers.”

“I know. Everything okay?” Mike asked, shifting his position in the uncomfortable chair and it gave an unsettling whine beneath his weight, like it was considering breaking. 

“Everything's fine, I just wanted to call and apologize,” Will said, voice soft.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to, you know, make you uncomfortable or anything.” Mike shot a look around the waiting area again, lowering his voice. “Sorry if I was moving too fast, or whatever,” Mike said, feeling a fair amount of discomfort himself. 

“No, I’m so sorry. It’s not anything you did. I… I just… It’s hard to explain. I was really enjoying it, it’s just… Can you come over? Just when you have the time. Only if you want to,” Will said quickly, sounding conciliatory and unsure. 

Mike paused a moment before replying. 

“Yeah, I’m tied up right now but I can stop by later,” he said, glancing at another customer who’d entered the store.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, you’re not interrupting. I'm just waiting to get a tire fixed,” Mike explained. “Some dumb kids slashed one of mine last night.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m good. I pulled over before any damage was done to the car,” Mike said, pushing his curly bangs out of his face, uncomfortable with how much Will was apologizing. 

“How weird. One of our display sighs got smashed last night too.”

Mike furrowed his brow. 

“It’s not a huge deal. I called Steve and he’s going to send someone to fix it. Must have been the same kids who got your tire,” Will continued.

“Did the cameras pick up anything?” he asked, remembering Robin trying to put them together the day before. 

“No, we never got them working. Steve said he’s going to hire someone to finish setting them up,” Will replied with a sigh, his voice airy and soft over the phone. 

Mike nodded and realizing that Will couldn’t see it, cleared his throat. 

“Well, I’ll let you go. I can head over after I’m done here,” he said, shifting again as the other customer came to sit in the small waiting area. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then,” Will said softly before disconnecting the call. 

Mike pocketed the phone and yawned again, settling into the creaking chair to wait for his name to be called. 

**

The front door to Stranger Inks was locked since they were closed on Sundays but Will had texted saying the back was open and for Mike to let himself in. Mike didn’t know if it was such a good idea for Will to be leaving _any_ of the doors unlocked considering the vandalism that had occurred less than twenty four hours previous to his arrival in the afternoon. Mike pulled the door open, feeling a little awkward about the whole thing, and shut it firmly behind himself, dead-bolting it, paranoia gnawing at him. 

He padded down the hall towards Will’s apartment and knocked lightly, shifting from foot to foot. He felt weird. Usually Mike would avoid difficult conversations or at the very least, try to text his way through them. A face to face talk after an uncomfortable sexual experience, a rejection at that, was not something he wanted to do. But Will had reached out and Mike felt obligated to respond in whatever way Will asked him to. When the door opened, Mike blinked down at the shorter man who greeted him. 

“Hi,” he said as Will took a step back, letting him in. 

The petite artist was wearing a hoodie with the Stranger Inks logo over the breast, zipped to the neck, and a pair of athletic pants that hugged his waist and ankles. It was unusually casual, especially compared to what Mike had gotten used to seeing Will in. 

“Thanks for coming by. There’s coffee on the counter if you want any,” Will said, looking a little ill at ease as Mike stepped in.

“It’s okay. You said you wanted to talk?” Mike asked, looking Will over and trying to figure out how to relax the other man despite the obviously uncomfortable atmosphere between them. 

The other man shuffled his feet, eyes trained on them.

“I do. I-I’m sorry about last night. I wanted you to know that it wasn’t because of you. And I really appreciate you stopping when I asked,” Will added, hurriedly. 

Mike really wished Will would stop apologizing. Will was acting like he’d committed some terrible, indefensible offense by shutting down the make out session. Sure, it had been a little distressing and embarrassing, but not something to be so apologetic over. 

“Well, yeah, I mean, that was the literal bare minimum I could do. I’m sorry if I took things too far-”

“-You didn’t. It’s not that,” Will assured him, still looking firmly at his socks. “I… I’m really attracted to you and I wanted to… last night. It’s not that.”

Mike was surprised. That was awfully direct and evasive all at the same time. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled a shoulder, shrugging. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Is it… too soon after a break up?” he asked, trying to prob as gently as he could, worried that if he pushed too hard he’d chase the timid man away. 

Will didn’t respond for a moment. HIs face was drawn in a look of uncertainty. He took a step forward and turned his head to the side, still not meeting Mike’s eyes but at least not looking at his feet anymore, searching for the words.

“No. Look, I’m sorry about what happened. I just, I didn’t want you to look at me.”

What? Why? Will was attractive, well built, why wouldn’t he want Mike to look at him? Mike chewed his lip, not wanting to press the issue. He sighed, shifting again and glancing away. Will seemed to sense his hesitation and finally looked up at the taller man. 

“Mr. Wheeler?” he asked, voice small.

Mike let his gaze drift back to the smaller brunet. Will was shrinking in on himself, shoulders drooping, eyes averted, back to his socks. Mike felt a sting of guilt. This talk couldn’t have been easy on Will. No matter what discomfort Mike felt, Will was the one who’d reached out, apologized, tried to explain himself. Now he was wilting, maybe feeling like his apologies had been rejected? Mike raised a hand and Will twitched, not an outright flinch, but... something similar. Mike let his hand brush Will’s face, fingers carding through his hair. 

“I mean, I don’t get it. I think you’re… You’re a really good looking guy, but I respect your feelings. If you don’t want to be looked at, I mean, I dunno. I guess you could blindfold me?” he suggested, nervously laughing a little. 

That seemed to surprise Will who let out a snort and leaned into the touch. 

“While I appreciate the offer, that won’t be necessary. Just dim or no lighting is fine,” the artist said, eyes drifting closed. 

Mike stroked Will’s face, his hair. This was probably the strangest situation he’d ever found himself in (and he’d once been roped into dressing as Rainbow Dash for his sister Holly’s friend’s birthday party). Mike hadn’t imagined himself ever being attracted to another man like this. Not only attracted to, but emotionally invested in. Mike wanted to kiss Will, he wanted to comfort him. He knew more about Will and his past then the artist was aware of and it burned in his mind like a fire. Mike knew the flinches when he raised a hand unexpectedly were likely a reflex Will had developed from being with an abuser. He knew Will’s passivity and inclination to avoid conflict were a learned response, one he’d likely used to survive. Maybe Will didn’t want Mike to look at him because of some ingrained feeling of self consciousness, from something Zach had said enough times to Will to make it the truth. 

Mike could live with having the lights out. If it made Will less insecure, Mike would unscrew every bulb right now. 

“Would it, like, be okay if I kissed you?” Mike asked, still trying to learn to navigate Will. 

Mike had never been involved with anyone who’d been abused before (at least not to his knowledge) and he didn’t want Will to just let Mike walk all over him, let him do whatever he wanted, just for fear of retribution. Will smiled, nuzzling into Mike’s hand. 

“You’re very sweet, did you know that?” the small brunet asked. “Of course you can.”

Mike blushed. He’d never thought of himself as ‘sweet’ before. He just wasn’t an abusive piece of shit. Mike wanted Will to be comfortable and pleased by anything they did together, not coerced and afraid. He glanced around the apartment. The blinds were drawn and the only artificial light was coming from the overhead light in the kitchen nook. Mike pulled away to flip the switch, killing the power before turning back. 

“This okay?” he asked, letting his eyes adjust. 

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry about this,” Will replied, stepping towards Mike in the dim light and touching his chest tentatively. 

The freckled man inhaled and breathed out slowly through his nose. He _really_ wished Will would stop apologizing. 

“It’s okay, I just want you to be comfortable,” he explained, unconsciously leaning into the touch. 

Will chuckled again, tracing his fingers over Mike’s shirt, causing gooseflesh to rise. 

“You really are _very_ sweet,” he said, closing the distance between them and letting his mouth meet Mike’s. 

The kiss was slow, unsure on Mike’s end. He wanted Will, pretty badly, but didn’t know how to go about initiating physical intimacy with another man, someone so abused and damaged at that. It was easier to let Will take the lead, direct Mike, and set the pace in a way that was comfortable for _him_. Mike was glad he did. Giving control to Will seemed to embolden him and to Mike’s delight and surprise, Will was a bit more aggressive than Mike would have thought. 

It was like they were picking up where they’d left off the night before. Will was kissing him, touching, encouraging Mike to sit on the couch. The small artist straddled him, whispering quiet encouragement when Mike faltered or worried he was going too fast. When Mike apologized for an accidentally rough squeeze on the hip, Will shushed him, grinding down against the curly haired man, making him cuss quietly. Will’s hands went to the hoodie he wore, unzipping it and exposing more of his figure than Mike had ever seen. Even in the dim light with muted colors and obscured lines, Mike could make out the silhouette of Will’s lithe frame, clad only in his undershirt and athletic pants. 

Mike raised a hand to touch him but paused. The last time he had tried, Will had gotten upset. 

_”It wasn’t anything you did.”_

Mike swallowed the unease he felt, reminding himself that Will had assured him that his reaction hadn’t been because of something the freckled man had done. Still, he hesitated until Will slipped off the undershirt, fully exposing his upper body. That was too tempting to resist. 

Mike raised his hands, running them over narrow, protruding hips and up Will’s bony flanks, resting just below his armpits, thumbs stroking the flesh an inch or so away from Will’s pierced nipples. Will sighed, shifting and pressing into the touch, letting his head roll to the side as his thin, delicate hands moved to the button of Mike’s pants. 

Mike felt his breath hitch and his hips jerk up in excitement. Will pulled him free and Mike sucked on his teeth, heart pounding, cock weeping with _want_. 

Okay. This was happening. Will was touching him and Mike was responding. His body didn’t care that this was another man (and neither did his mind. Will was so fucking sexy). The sounds Mike was making were low and needy as Will stroked him, sure and firm. Mike leaned forward, latching his mouth to Will’s left nipple, sucking on it the way he would a woman, flicking his tongue over the hardened nub and beads that held the piercing in place. Will was emitting small, throaty moans and writhed against Mike as he worked, making his thin chest rise and fall beneath Mike’s hands and mouth. When Will used his free hand to encourage Mike to touch him lower, touch him _there_ , Mike froze up. 

Okay, okay, okay. This was it, the moment of truth. Mike swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed down, one hand cupping and massaging Will’s ass, his other pressed against the firm erection beneath Will’s pants. Mike palmed at him, unsure and inexperienced but eager to try. Will hummed in appreciation and rolled his hips back into Mike’s hand on his ass and forward into the one working his cock. 

Will was practically whining at the touches, tugging at Mike with fervor as the curly haired man massaged him, enthusiastic but sloppy. Mike slipped his hand up and away from Will’s ass to the bare skin of his back, feeling soft skin (raised, uneven patches?). He ran a finger over one of the raised portions, trying to figure out what it was but a firm squeeze on his cockhead drew his attention away from his exploration. 

Will thrust up at Mike’s palm, whining intensifying as he begged to be touched. Mike swallowed again, moving his lips from Will’s chest to the space between his shoulder and throat. He felt vibrations as Will groaned above him, his rough stubble sandpaper against Mike’s tongue as the taller man licked and kissed the vulnerable area. As Mike worried at Will’s throat, the smaller man removed his hand from Mike’s wrist to pull at the elastic band of his own pants to free himself. 

Mike stuttered, totally shocked by the feeling of Will free and bare pressed into his palm. 

Holy fuck, Will was hard and wet, precum coating the top of his glans and Mike felt something smooth and artificial there. Mike thumbed it, curious but not wanting to stop his work in Will’s throat. It was a closed ring, held together by a thick bead. Holy fucking hell, Will’s cock was pierced. 

It was Mike’s turn to whine, his grip on the smaller man tightening with a sudden rush of arousal. Mike had never known, well, didn’t _know_ he knew anyone with a pierced cock. He never would have imagined that soft spoken, reserved Will Byers, with his dry cleaned button ups and heavy knit cardigans would have had one. Maybe Mike should have been able to guess based on the other hidden piercings beneath those professional clothes, but feeling the first cock other than his own, having it be _pierced_ was a shocking experience. Mike ran his thumb over the ring again and Will twitched at the contact. 

“Does that hurt?” Mike asked, voice hoarse. 

Will shook his head, hair tickling Mike’s nose as the small man leaned forward, pressing against Mike and kissing the hollow of the taller man’s throat.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, the hint of a laugh in his voice. 

“I’ve never, I mean, I haven’t ever, you know…” Mike trailed off, stroking Wills shaft slowly, rolling the foreskin down and back up again. 

“Never been with a guy with a piercing before?” Will asked, rolling his hips into Mike’s hand, using his own to stroke in time. 

Mike hesitated, unsure. He stroked the artist on his lap, enjoying the feel of him moving. He liked the way Will’s cock had a smooth glide from the foreskin, the way the skin of his back was so soft as Mike ran his fingertips over it. 

“No I mean, well I haven’t done that either but um… I uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Will asked, squeezing Mike, making him gasp. 

“N-nothing. I’ve just never um, done this before,” Mike admitted, still trying his best to pleasure Will. 

Will shifted, pulling his face away slightly, pausing the kiss he’d been laying on Mike’s neck. 

“What?” he asked quietly, still stroking Mike as he used his other hand to hold the back of the taller man’s neck, balancing himself. 

“I’ve never um… done this,” Mike said again, glad it was so dimly lit so Will couldn’t see the blush burning it’s way across his features at the confession. 

“You’re a virgin?” Will asked, not sounding like he believed that.

Mike shook his head, his dark curls falling into his eyes. Will paused his ministrations, tilting his head to look at Mike the best he could in the dark. 

“I’ve done it with girls,” Mike hurried on, trying to explain himself. “Just not with guys.”

Will seemed to consider this information for a moment before he started stroking Mike again. 

“So… you’re _kind of_ a virgin,” he said, gripping Mike firmly, thumbing Mike’s slit and making the dark haired man grit his teeth. 

“And just how many women have you slept with?” Mike asked, pulling Will forward to nip at his ear. 

Will chuckled. 

“Fair enough,” the petite man conceded, nuzzling into the touch. “For what it’s worth, Mr. Wheeler, I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Ha, thanks,” Mike whispered, dragging his teeth against Will’s shoulder, running his tongue over another oddly raised patch of skin.

“You really are adorable,” Will said, shifting again, moving back and away from Mike. 

“Will?” the freckled man asked, suddenly afraid his lack of experience was a deterrent to the other man. 

Did Will feel like Mike was just trying to get his dick wet with anyone who was available, sexuality be damned? (Is that what he was doing?) Mike didn’t think so but he’d never been particularly interested in any man other than Will, so what was this?

“Shh,” Will soothed, giving Mike a firm squeeze before detaching himself completely from the other man. “Lean back, okay?”

Mike obliged, releasing his hold on Will, letting him crawl off and sink to his knees between Mike’s legs. Mike’s heart skipped, his breath hitched. When Will settled between his knees and urged them open, Mike felt his mouth go dry. He lifted his hips at Will’s urging, letting the smaller man pull the jeans down lower, beneath his ass, to his upper thighs. 

The sight of Will’s silhouette on the ground, between his knees, wasn’t as clear as the imagine that had found its way into Mike’s mind before but this was so much more arousing. This was real, this was happening. Mike struggled to be still as Will lowered his face and took Mike into his mouth, sucking him in deeply in one go. 

Holy shit, Mike almost never got head. El had never liked to and Mike never pushed the issue. He himself liked to eat girls out, loved the way they writhed and twitched, the little sounds they made when he kissed them there the way he’d kiss their mouths. He loved the way a partner felt when he was making them feel good and it was one of his greatest pleasures to bring someone to orgasm with just his tongue and hands. 

But after he and El broke up, even his hookups had been just a little foreplay and then straight up sex. Mike wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of oral sex, especially from someone who seemed to be into it, who seemed to be getting _enjoyment_ from it if the way Will sucked and hummed around him was any indication. 

Will ran his tongue over Mike’s head, using his double piercing to tease the ridge of his glans and Mike cussed, bucking his hips and gripping Will’s shoulders. Will shifted, hesitating for a moment, as if he was expecting something to happen. Mike ran his thumb over the bone of Will’s shoulder, silently apologizing for moving unexpectedly. Will seemed to accept that and continued his work while Mike carded his fingers through Will’s feather soft hair, stroked down his back and over those strange, raised parts of his skin. They didn’t feel particularly rough, not like a rash. It almost felt like the raised part of Mike’s skin where his original tattoo hadn’t healed right. Mike wondered if Will had had a similar experience and that’s why he didn’t like to have people working on him. 

Mike’s thoughts and curiosity derailed entirely when Will used the studs on his tongue to toy with Mike’s frenulum, making him cuss and whine softly again. A slow, steady build was starting at the base of his spine and pit of his stomach. The curly haired man gasped and tapped Will on the shoulder. 

“Hang on, wait, I’m gonna come,” he croaked, voice hoarse. 

Will hummed, massaging circles into Mike’s thighs and Mike tapped him again more urgently. 

“Will, I’m serious. I’m really close,” he gasped again, knowing he wouldn’t last. 

The small artist sucked him deeper, moving with intent and enthusiasm. Mike cussed, unable to stop it now and stopped tapping. Instead, he tightened his hold on Will’s shoulders, bucking into the welcoming heat. That pressure spilled over and Mike pulsed, emptying into Will who swallowed and moaned as he did. Once Mike had finished, riding his orgasm through to the end, Will detached from him, looking up in the dim light. 

Mike panted, totally overwhelmed. El had never, _ever_ let him finish in her mouth before. It had disgusted her. Will didn’t look disgusted, he didn’t even look like he minded at _all_. In fact, even in the dim light, Will looked like he’d enjoyed it. Mike suspected that he had. The way Mike had tried to warn him only seemed to spur him on. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, Will,” he panted, hands still resting on the kneeling man’s shoulders. 

Will sat still, just looking at Mike who was rubbing circles into his thin shoulders as he came down from his high. Will was so sexy, so incredibly beautiful. Even in the dim light Mike could see a light flush of color rising from Will’s chest up his body, making his cheeks rosy. His lips were swollen from their work and his gorgeous brown eyes were heavily lidded. Will had been so enthusiastic, had felt so good on Mike. He wanted to return the favor. Mike shifted, trying to encourage Will to stand.

Will pulled himself forward and back onto Mike’s lap, catching him in a kiss. Mike could taste the remnants of himself of Will’s mouth (how depraved, how utterly debauched) and Mike slipped his tongue in to eat at Will. The small man moaned at that, opening for him as Mike slipped his hand beneath the elastic of Will’s pants, gripping him again. 

Mike had been afraid before, unsure. Now he wasn’t. How he held and stroked with fervor, wanting so badly for Will to feel as good as he’d made Mike feel. Will responded, moving against him, pawing at his shoulders, his chest, his hair. Will wanted him, maybe more than anyone had ever wanted him. The desire was palpable and beneath that, affection. 

Will curled around Mike, holding and touching so gently, quivering as the tall man worked him. They’d broken the kiss now and Will was breathing heavily against Mike’s hair, near his ear. He was whispering a chant. 

“Mike, Mike, Mike.”

Hearing that, just his first name spoken over and over, only said once before by the tattoo artist, caused a swell of emotion in the taller man. This was so real, so intense. This was someone so withdrawn, so guarded, and now in this moment laid bare. His reservations, his formality were stripped away, dissolving. The proof was in that one word. 

_”Mike.”_

When he orgasmed, spilling into Mike’s waiting hand, Will clung to him and Mike held him tight. The smaller man was breathing heavily against his chest and Mike kissed his forehead, pushing that silky brown hair aside to do so. Slowly, Mike reclined, laying them both down into the couch. Will was using Mike’s chest as a pillow, hands curled around the fabric of Mike’s shift. They lay there quietly, just breathing until Mike felt Will shiver, the drying sweat causing him to chill as the heat between them dissipated into the darkened apartment. 

Will shifted, pulling away, searching for his hoodie as Mike tucked himself away into his pants. When he finished dressing, Will turned to Mike, face still obscured by the dim lighting. The artist reached over, turning on the reading lamp on his end table, illuminating them both. Will still had color in his face, a faint hickey marking the area between his shoulder and throat. Mike grinned, a little embarrassed that he’d done that. 

Will looked good like this; hair a mess, body flushed from sex. Mike sat up, running a hand through his own mass of curls, trying to tame them. 

“I’m starving,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

The brown eyed artist smiled. 

“I’d love that.”

**

Mike didn’t see the message until he got home. He’d been so preoccupied with Will, with watching him eat and smile, the hickey still in plain view. Even after Mike had pointed it out, Will hadn’t tried to hide it, to hide _him_. Mike had spent the whole afternoon with Will, dropping him off hours after he’d initially arrived. They’d shared a kiss at the utility door, in full view of anyone who might have been watching. Mike didn’t even care. 

Mike’s elated mood had lasted until he stepped into the living room, flopping down on the couch to watch Dustin play 1vs100. Dustin was doing well of course, he was brilliant. When Mike finally pulled the phone from his pocket to examine it, there was a message request waiting. It was from someone not on his friends list and he had to accept the message to read it. Mike clicked it, curious, and immediately recoiled. 

**Hey Mikey how’s the little cockslut doing? You fuck him yet? I know you’re fucking him. I know you’ve been with him two days in a row, cumming and going as you please. Enjoy him. Little slut takes dick like he was born to do it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sucking dick in grade school. You and Stevie sharing him? Spitroasting that little bitch? I bet you are. Bet he was crying for more. He looks great when he’s crying, fucking covered in jizz. Nothing that little bitch likes more than a fat cock in the ass.**

Mike sat frozen, staring at the message. He looked over at Dustin who’s eyes were trained on the screen, oblivious to Mike’s expression. Mike looked at the name, John Davis. He didn’t recognize it so he clicked on the user link. No uploaded photos, no personal info, not even a hometown. Mike snarled, typing a quick message back before blocking the user. 

_**Fuck you** _

Mike stood and Dustin glanced up at him.

“You okay, Mike?”

“I’m fine.”

“Want to order pizza later?”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, I know this chapter was a little short but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I have the next one written and plan to have it uploaded by Thursday. I'm happy I was able to get this chapter done before work because I'm going to Dungeon some Dragons tonight when I get off. For those of you who play, with me luck. We're doing Curse of Strahd and my PC has officially pissed off the Lord of Barovia. Pray for me y'all. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. Take care of yourselves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will spend the day together. Mike confides in Dustin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for brief but graphic descriptions of domestic abuse.

The message had left a sour taste in his mouth, but days passed without a followup and Mike was able to ignore it for the most part. He knew it was irrational, the sender (more than likely Zach but Mike didn’t have concrete proof) had been trying to get a rise out of him. But every once in a while, despite himself and to his annoyance, when Will touched him, Mike felt a flare of anger. Not directed at Will of course, but anger nonetheless. What had started as an amazing memory was marred because of that simple text, the cruelty of it. That was probably the intent. It was infuriating to Mike that it actually worked. 

Mike didn’t tell Will about it. There was no point in upsetting him and Mike had already blocked the user. Besides, between both of their jobs, the little time they got to spend together shouldn’t be wasted on a troll’s shitty message. Mike wanted to spend the time he had with Will just concentrating on him, on whatever it was they had. Neither of them had tried to label it, this thing between them. The words ‘dating’ and ‘boyfriend’ hadn’t made an appearance in either of their vocabularies, even if it felt an awful lot like that. If Will knew about the message, it would have hurt him and Mike reasoned that Will had hurt enough for two lifetimes. He absolutely refused to add to the weight Will already carried. Mike was strong enough to support both himself and Will in this small way. 

Mike hadn’t told Dustin or Lucas about Will. It wasn’t because he was embarrassed of Will or anything, he just didn’t want to… he didn’t know, _share_ this with anyone? This secret side of himself. Will didn’t seem to mind, he was a fairly private person. He hadn’t acted differently when he came to get coffee or asked to see Mike’s place that he knew Mike shared with Dustin. He was almost so low maintenance that it bordered on disturbing. Mike wondered if that was a learned skill to avoid conflict. It probably was. Getting Will to express what he wanted and what he was comfortable with was a challenge, he was always so non committal. Mike usually didn’t press issues, figuring Will would eventually make his thoughts known if Mike was patient enough with him. But for the time being, nothing that happened outside of Will’s home had changed.

Mike wasn’t even sure Will had confided in Steve and Robin yet and they were his best friends. If she’d know, Robin surely would have texted Mike by now, gloating and celebrating her ‘victory’ in being right about her suspicions. Mike still flushed when he thought back to how Robin interrogated him, how she’d lit up the night after Mask when it looked like Mike was doing a quick get away the morning after a hookup. Since Mike had yet to receive such a text, he figured Will hadn't told her yet. Maybe he wanted to keep this private too, something only the two of them shared. 

Mike had made it a habit of stopping by the parlor after he’d helped close up the coffee shop and prepped it for the next shift. Will would leave the back unlocked for him, (something that Mike appreciated even if he didn’t think it was a great idea, all things with Zach considered). Mike would let himself in and lock the door behind him, usually finding Will in his workspace finishing up some sketches or sterilizing his equipment. 

Mike had been surprised by their interactions sexually after that first night. Will was a generous lover, always willing to give but seemed reluctant to let Mike reciprocate. Don’t get it wrong, Will seemed to really enjoy when Mike would touch him and he _really_ seemed to like giving head, but whenever Mike would try or offer to do the same, Will would decline. 

Mike wondered why, but he suspected that it was because Mike hadn’t been with another man before. Not because Will thought Mike would be a terrible lover or anything, but more like he was giving him an out, a way to say ‘hold up, I’m not actually into this’ without having to suck a dick to figure it out. On the plus side, Mike had gotten pretty good at learning what to do with his hand to make Will feel good. In Mike’s mind, if Will wouldn’t even let Mike go down on him, sex was totally out of the question. Mike suspected that if he wanted it, if he had pushed for it, Will would have caved. But Mike didn’t want Will to just _give in_. He wanted Will to _want to_. So Mike waited. 

Will was still timid as well, even when it was just him and Mike. He would still recoil or flinch if Mike moved unexpectedly, would wince if Mike raised his voice at all, even if it was just in excitement from beating a level of Rock Band on the highest difficulty or tapping an elbow in just such a way that it flared in pain and went numb. Mike felt bad and made a conscious effort to control his volume, to be a little less erratic with his movements. He wanted Will to know that he was a safe person, that he wasn’t going to lose his patience and force Will to do anything he didn’t want to do, that Mike wasn’t going to flip out and strike him in anger.

Right now, Mike was laid out on his stomach on Will’s bed, using his arms as a pillow. He had his eyes closed, enjoying the warm breeze that came from the open window as Will perched cross legged next to him. Will was sipping wine and smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the open window, all while humming softly. Mike had spent the night, having drifted off after he and Will had spent a few hours fooling around and watching Hulu on Will’s laptop. 

It was the first time he’d slept at Will’s place (well, in his bed at least. Much more comfortable than the bean bag chair). It was also the first time Mike had slept next to anyone in over a year. He enjoyed the way Will had curled close in his sleep, pressing his back flush against Mike’s chest and stomach. He smelled good and the sound of his slow, gentle breathing was soothing. Will had almost woken once or twice in the night, twitching and jerking like he was having a nightmare. Mike had traced his fingers over Will’s arms, his back, calming him and easing him back to sleep. Mike had felt those strange raised marks in the dark. He’d considered turning on his phone and using the lights to examine what they were while Will slept, but ultimately decided against that breach of trust. 

When Mike had woken, not even aware that he’d actually fallen asleep, sunlight was peeking from behind the blinds and Will was already dressed for the day. Mike had started to get up and excuse himself but had been stopped by a fresh cup of coffee and Will telling him to relax, stay a while. Now Mike lay on his stomach, eyes closed while Will sat next to him, dipping his paintbrush into the wet palate and dragging it across the skin of Mike’s back. 

Mike twitched at the feeling of the cold brush against his skin but did his best to lay still, to not ruin whatever it was that Will was painting on him. Will continued to hum quietly while he worked, making approving or disapproving sounds as he added color and took another drag from his cigarette. Mike listened, eyes still closed. Will’s humming was something he’d gotten used to by now and he enjoyed it, enjoyed listening to Will create melodies and tunes, maybe mimicking music only he could hear. When Mike had asked him about it, Will had gotten bashful and quiet, explaining that he’d read that singing could produce serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, all the happy chemicals. It had just become a habit. Mike thought it was a little odd, but endearing. 

Will shifted, his slight weight dipping the mattress as he moved. Mike felt the smaller man blow on his back, trying to help the paint dry before adding another layer. Mike sighed and opened his eyes as Will kissed the back of his neck, right beneath his curls, one of the only paint free areas. 

“You’re the most perfect canvas,” the light eyed man teased, kissing Mike’s ear. “I love the way you look like this.”

“Like what?” Mike asked, turning to look over his shoulder at the artist. 

“Don’t move, the paint’s gonna bleed,” Will said, moving his lips from Mike’s ear to his freckled cheek. “Like this. Spread out on my bed, hair a mess from sleep, covered in my art. You look like a picture.”

Mike blushed and closed his eyes again. 

“Hang on, I’m going to get my camera,” Will said, rolling away. 

The lithe man set his wine glass on the desk and returned with a camera in hand. He raised up to his knees on the mattress, trying to get a good angle to take a photo from. Mike turned his face away, burying it in his arms. Will tsked, straddling the taller man’s legs to get a better angle. 

“Don’t do that, don’t hide. I love your face, I want a memento of this,” Will said gently, running a hand along the small of Mike’s back, making him shiver.

_You hide,_ Mike wanted to point out, but kept the thought to himself. 

Instead, he blushed harder, making his freckles stand out like black ash against a flame. He heard the camera click and felt Will shift again, then another click. Mike’s pulse was thumping in his ears with embarrassment. The way Will paid so much attention to him, the way he spent so much time focused on making Mike feel good when they were together was almost too much. Mike wasn’t particularly shy, but after years of mostly one sided attention from him to El, to be the center of another person’s attention was overwhelming. He wasn’t used to it and didn’t know if he would ever get used to it. 

The camera clicked again and Will set it down, moving to sit next to Mike instead of straddle him. 

“They look okay?” Mike asked, twisting his head to look at Will now that the camera couldn’t capture his red face and discomposure. 

“They’re perfect,” Will said, picking up his palate and moving it to the end table so he could stretch out next to Mike, stroking the other man’s dark curls as he did. 

Mike leaned into the touch. He’d been considering getting a haircut but the way Will seemed to like his hair the way it was, even if it was usually a mess, made him change his mind. Mike was having more and more difficulty controlling his hair the longer it got, but he was starting to not mind. 

“You wanna catch a movie?” he asked, watching Will’s hand move, toying with a curl between his slender fingers. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Anything playing that you wanna see?” the other man asked, honey eyes focused on Mike’s still red face.

“Nah, nothing’s jumping out at me. Just want to be out of the house for a while, maybe hit a food truck after.”

It was the closest Mike had come to as far as asking Will on a proper ‘date’.

“I think the theater downtown is playing cult classics all weekend. The Room, Igby Goes Down, Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” Will murmured, eyes drifting closed as he continued to play with Mike’s hair. 

“Sounds good,” Mike sighed, closing his own, waiting for the paint to dry so it didn’t roll off his back onto the blue and brown patterned comforter. 

Neither man moved from their relaxed positions, listening to the traffic and noise of life outside the window. It was a perfect, lazy summer afternoon and Mike couldn’t think of any way he’d rather spend it than with Will. The smaller man moved his hand from Mike’s hair to his face, brushing his fingers along Mike’s jaw. The dark eyed man twisted to kiss Will’s palm, smelling the paint that still lingered on his fingers. 

“You need to shave,” Will teased, running a thumb over Mike’s stubble. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, kissing Will’s hand again. “Gonna have to shower before we go. Someone covered me in paint you know.”

“Goodness, I had no idea,” Will laughed, bending to kiss Mike’s cheek. “Who’d do such a thing?”

Mike chuckled, leaning to the side to catch Will’s mouth in a gentle touch. He wanted to roll Will over, pin him down and cover his pale body with the dark marks he could draw to the surface with every suck and kiss. He wanted to slide Will’s clothes off, pull the loose fitting baseball style jersey off of him and push his jeans beneath his narrow hips. Mike wanted to lay Will out, lift those long, slim legs over his painted shoulders and devour him. Will sighed before pulling away, as if Mike had been projecting those thoughts directly into his mind. 

“The paint. Shower here, towels are in the closet,” Will said, rolling off the bed. 

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Will said, lifting his arms above his head and stretching.

Will’s shirt rode up a little, exposing his boney hips, the trail of light hair from his navel lower, and a flash of discoloration on his stomach as he rolled his shoulders. Mike frowned, wondering what it was the sunlight had revealed on the other man’s body. The exposed skin was covered as quickly as it had been displayed as Will dropped his arms and stepped towards the closet. 

“Do you need a change of clothes? I think I could probably find something that would fit you.”

“If you don’t mind,” Mike said, army crawling to the edge of the bed to slide off so he wouldn’t drip paint onto the comforter. 

Will hummed again and started shifting through his clothes, searching for something that would fit the taller man. Mike padded to the hall, looking for the linen closet. He found it near the laundry room where Will kept the cat bowls and folded laundry he hadn’t put yet put away. Little Mama hissed at him from her sleeping spot near the dryer, but it sounded half hearted. Whether she liked it or not, Mike was becoming a familiar presence in her home.

In the closet Mike found the towels along with an assortment of washcloths, Epsom salt, scented lotions, bars of soap and other items that all looked hand made. Most of them had a label that said ‘Lush’ on them. Mike picked up a bar of soap and turned it over. It felt soft, malleable in his hand. He sniffed it, smelling hints of cedar and citrus. Mike put it back and picked up a fluffy green towel. When he turned, Will was exiting the bathroom. 

“I put some clothes on the vanity, I think they’ll fit you,” Will said, stepping aside so Mike could enter. 

“Thanks, appreciate it,” Mike replied with a nod. 

“Not a problem. Want me to wash your things?” the petite man asked, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Mike assured him, a little embarrassed to be babied like that, having someone offer to do his laundry. 

“It’s not a bother,” Will insisted.” Besides, I already have your shirt. You might as well cough up the pants and socks too,” the pale man said with a shrug. 

“Uh, okay,” Mike said, flushing. 

How long had he slept that Will had time to start working on laundry while he dozed? Mike hadn’t looked at his phone once today and Will didn’t seem to keep a clock in his room. He’d have to check his messages when he was done cleaning up. Will nodded, stepping away to give Mike some privacy. The taller man stepped in, shutting the door and turning on the shower to adjust the temperature while he stripped down. A flash of color in the mirror made him turn to look. It was his back, vibrant yellows and blues spread across his skin. Mike twisted, trying to get a good look at it over his shoulder as steam clouded the mirror. 

It was a field of flowers, all different shapes and colors. It was pretty, even as the flowers bled together as the steam formed beads on his skin. Mike would have liked to spend longer looking at it, but the paint was running and he didn’t want to stain the tile floor. Mike stepped into the shower, watching the paint run and swirl around his feet like a portal to the fey realm. 

It took Mike a moment to find the shampoo and conditioner, but he managed to figure out that the bottles labeled Wasabi Shan Kui and Veganese were what he was looking for. Honestly, all of the products were a little confusing. The only item other than a loofah that he could readily identify was a straight razor and even though inside of the shower was a weird place to keep it, Mike at least knew what it was. 

Once he was clean and dry, Mike picked up the clothes Will had laid out for him. There were a pair of dark grey jogging pants and a black t-shirt. Mike had been startled at the t-shirt, he didn’t know Will even owned any, but the smoke monster logo explained that pretty quickly. Steve had really been pushing the merch in preparation for the second location opening, even setting up a display case where customers could buy any that they wanted. It wasn’t shocking that Will had one of the shirts tucked away in his closet. 

The curly haired man pulled the clothes on and looked himself over. The pants were a little short and the shirt maybe a hair too snug, but they worked. He thought briefly back to Max wearing one of El’s blouses and felt a flare of shame at the annoyance he’d felt for them. After all, he’d been with Will what, a week? And he was already staying the night and borrowing clothes. 

Mike ran his fingers through his hair and hung the towel up, trying to decide if he should embark on the adventure of trying to decode Will’s strangely named hair products in search of the one that might be appropriate for managing his longer than normal curls. Recalling an incident where he’d showered at Lucas’ house and borrowed an unfamiliar hair product made him pause. When he’d used Lucas’ things without knowing what they were, he’d ended up looking like a drowned rat. Obviously they hadn’t been meant for his hair type and Erica hadn’t let him live it down for years after. Mike looked at all the strangely unhelpful labels on the products and decided against it, instead picking up his phone to flip through his messages, most from Dustin. 

_You okay?_

_Are you coming home tonight?_

_I ordered Chinese, there are spring rolls in the fridge._

_Call me man, I’m worried._

Mike quickly typed a message back, apologizing and explaining he’d lost track of time and fallen asleep at a friend’s house but that he’d be home later. After he sent the message to Dustin, Mike turned his attention to the others. One from Lucas asking if he wanted to play Overwatch later, one from Max asking if he’d be willing to cover her Tuesday shift, and one from an unknown sender. His heart thumped and Mike considered deleting it without ever opening it, but in the end his grim curiosity (and maybe an itch for confrontation) got the best of him and he clicked on the message, accepting it.

This one didn’t say anything. It just had three photo attachments. 

They were progression shots. The first was Will, a little younger maybe, no visible piercings, but definitely him. He was on his knees, red from crying, tears staining his face as someone held his hair and forced him to face the camera. The second was a closeup of what Mike assumed was Will’s face, though it wasn’t clear at first. The face was swollen and discolored from bruising and tears, the camera unfocused. What was clear was that the person in the photo, _Will_ , was trying to cover his face, hands flecked with blood. Whoever was taking the picture was using the hand not holding the camera to try and pry Will’s own hands away from his face while Will resisted. 

The last image was the most disturbing by far. 

It was Will and he was struggling with something, a belt, wrapped around his neck. His lips were swollen and slightly blue, his left eye was purple and closed and the one that was opened was bloodshot, veins obviously having burst from lack of oxygen and strain from the struggle trying to remove the belt. Mike still couldn’t see who held the camera but he saw what looked like maybe a class ring on the hand of the person who was using the belt as a noose. There was part of a dick in the picture and it looked like whoever had taken it was _excited_ by what they were doing. This looked like attempted murder.

Mike stared at the pictures, a stone nesting in the pit of his stomach. 

What. The. Fuck.

Mike clicked on the user name, Joe Shmoe. An obvious sock puppet account. Mike searched the empty profile, looking for any evidence that it was Zach who’d sent the pictures, who’d taken them. Nothing. Mike reported the profile and blocked the user. 

_Sick fucking fuck._

Mike stood there in the bathroom, taking a moment to try and collect himself, to stop the tremble that had started in him, born from the rage he felt. He took deep breaths, forcing the red angry flush out of his face and unclenched his jaw when it started aching. Once he was sure he had composed himself, Mike left the bathroom to search for Will. 

The thin man was in the kitchen nook, seated at one of the bar stools at the counter, clicking through his laptop browser, a water bottle open next to him. Mike didn’t move from his place in the hall, he just looked at the other man. 

Will looked relaxed, happy. His blanched skin was perfect, unmarred, bruise free (at least what Mike could see of it, most of Will was covered by his clothes). His soft brown eyes weren’t swollen or red from crying and his full lips had a healthy pink tint, no hint of a blue undertone. His thin hands weren’t struggling to free himself from being choked or cover his face, they were typing quickly, looking at the food truck schedule, trying to see which ones would be downtown that evening.

Mike stepped towards him quietly, without thought. He draped his arms over Will’s slim shoulders, making the other man jump in surprise as he looked up at Mike. Water dripped from Mike’s long curls onto Will’s shoulders like melting ice. 

“You startled me,” Will laughed, meeting eyes with the dark haired man. “You okay?” he asked, apparently put off by something in Mike’s expression. 

“I’m fine,” Mike said, leaning down to catch the artist in a kiss, causing Will to make a surprised but appreciative sound as he craned his neck to return it. 

Will twisted in his seat so he could face Mike who deepened the kiss, drawing a moan from the smaller brunet. Will cupped Mike’s face, running his thumbs over the stubble that still resided there. Will chuckled, pulling away.

“Ow, that hurt,” Will said, eyes scanning Mike’s face. “You forgot to shave.”

Mike stared at the petite man who was smiling up at him, relaxed and petting Mike’s face gently. Mike unclenched his jaw again and forced himself to relax into the touch. 

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. 

Will blinked, honey eyes confused. 

“I-I was kidding,” he said, kissing Mike’s freckled nose. “You look cute with a five o’clock shadow.”

Mike tightened his hold on Will, burying his face in Will’s shoulder as the shorter man slowly wrapped his own arms around Mike, tangling his fingers in the dark mane of curls. Mike didn’t want to let go, he wanted to hold on to Will forever. What kind of person would want to hurt this man, would take enjoyment out of watching him cower and cry? Will’s smile was so much better, his laugh was like bells ringing or wind-chimes in a breeze. Mike buried his face deeper, smelling Will’s hair, his skin and soap. Mike wanted to drink in it, bath in it. He wanted to stay like this but Will was squirming, trying to pull away. Mike released him. 

“Sorry, I was falling off the chair,” Will apologized, adjusting himself. 

“It’s okay,” Mike said, stroking his hands through Will’s feathery hair. 

_It’s all gonna be okay._

**

A little over a week later, Mike putzed around the kitchen, digging through the cupboards looking for one of his pre packaged pho cups. Dustin was chewing on the end of a dry erase marker, looking at the white board where he made the schedule for Level Up Latte. 

“Hey, can you work a double on Saturday?”

Mike paused, ripping the package of noodles between his teeth. 

“As long as I can have Sunday off.”

“Yeah that’s fine, I’ve got that covered. El and Max requested off Saturday, I think they’re going to some music festival but they’ll be back Sunday.”

Mike poured the seasoning packet over his food, adding water to it.

“That’s cool.”

“It’s a pain in the ass. I’m going to have to hire more people to cover shifts if they both need the same days off,” Dustin grumbled, writing on the board. 

“Oh hey, not to add to the stress or anything but like, can I get Sundays off?” Mike asked, stirring the contents of his bowl. 

“What, like next week too?” Dustin asked, scribbling on the white board. 

“Like… Every Sunday?” Mike replied, a little sheepish.

Dustin looked over his shoulder to stare at Mike, pursing his lips and making an exaggerated motion with his hands. 

“Et tu, Michael?”

Mike laughed, putting the bowl in the microwave.

“Yeah, me too. I uh, started seeing someone and they only have Sundays off,” he quickly explained, feeling a little hot. 

Dustin whirled around, eyes wide. 

“I knew it! I knew you didn’t suddenly stop moping around here for no reason. Staying out all night, actually ironing your shirts… Only have Sunday off, huh? Real workaholic. Yeah, for sure dude. I’ll figure something out so you can spend time with your lady love,” Dustin said, chewing on the pen again. 

Mike burned hotter. 

“Well I mean, they work in kind of a small shop so uh, skeleton crew type deal. Gotta be on call and Stranger Inks is only closed one day a week so… that’s when they have time to hang.”

Dustin brightened, turning to look at Mike with interest. 

“What, the tattoo parlor across the street? Is it that chick Lucas was talking about? That’s gotta suck for him.”

“Uh, no, it’s not Robin,” Mike said, clearing his throat. “It’s someone else.”

Dustin paused, trying to recall all the information he’d been collecting the last few weeks. He frowned. 

“Oh for God’s sake Mike, tell me it’s not Erica. Lucas is gonna kill you.”

Mike made an involuntary sound of disgust and shuddered. 

“Erica? Christ dude, she’s a fetus. I’ve seen her in diapers, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dustin raised his hands and nodded, eyes wide. 

“That’s what I’m saying! You can’t date a friend’s sister, it’s practically illegal!”

Mike laughed, pulling his food from the microwave and blew on it. 

“No, no, it’s not Erica,” he assured Dustin who looked immensely relieved to hear that. 

“So it’s not Erica or Robin, tell me about her then,” Dustin urged, pulling up a chair as Mike sat down to eat. 

“Uh, well, they’re an artist,” he started, chewing his food. 

“Cool man, like a new hire?”

“No, not really. It’s uh, the guy working on my tat,” Mike said as casually as he could, taking another bite. 

Dustin looked at him, visible confusion on his face as he tried to comprehend what it was that Mike was telling him. 

“Uh, Will? That guy who always asks for you?” Dustin asked, trying to clarify. 

“Yep. We’re umm… seeing each other,” Mike said, not seeing the point in back peddling now. 

Dustin stared at him, still clearly confused. 

“Isn’t he a guy?”

“Yep.”

“Are you…” Dustin gestured, “gay now?”

Mike sighed, setting down his spoon. 

“No man. Girls are hot and so is Will. He’s just, he’s special. Look dude, I don’t want to label it, just like, I like him. I want to see where this goes,” Mike explained, using his spoon to bring some of the broth to his mouth. 

Dustin sat across from him, perplexed. 

“So… are you bi?” he asked, still trying to process what Mike was telling him. 

Mike sighed again. 

“I don’t know, Dustin. Jesus, can I get the day off or not?” he grumbled, not really wanting to have a deep dive into his sexuality right now, or ever for that matter. 

“Yeah, for sure. You got it,” Dustin said, standing. 

Mike glanced up at him, wondering if his friend was put off by his confession. Dustin returned to the white board, still looking at it. 

“You should bring him by sometime,” Dustin finally said, still writing, switching from blue to red as he changed course on who’s schedule he was working on. “Maybe we could hang out, play cards against humanity or something. You really learn a lot about someone’s character based on what they laugh at in that game.”

Mike smiled. Dustin was trying to be supportive. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” he said, relief flooding him. 

He’d finally spoken his secret. Not only that, Dustin hadn’t rejected him. Dustin wanted to _meet_ Will, actually meet him. Not just short conversations, friendly words as he picked up his coffee. Mike stood, depositing his dish in the sink.

“Hey, thanks.”

“For what?” Dustin asked, glancing over at him. 

“For you know, not freaking out.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. 

“Dude, we’ve been friends for like, fifteen years. I’m just glad you’re happy, man. And as long as you’re not skulking around here anymore like a fucking zombie, it’s all cool. You’ve been seriously depressing for like, a year,” Dustin said with a laugh.

“I was seriously considering getting a Zoloft prescription just so I could slip them in your Gatorade. Of course I’m not freaking out. Well, not about that. This, on the other hand,” he said, turning back to the white board, “This is freaking me out. I really am going to have to hire someone now. Totally worth it, by the way,” Dustin assured him. 

“Just, man, I _really_ don’t want to have to train someone new. Think I could talk Max into doing it? She’s charismatic.”

Mike laughed at the thought of Max being able to control her language long enough to train anyone. He seemed to recall Max referring to clocking off for the day as ‘when it’s time to fuck off’, so yeah, maybe not her.

“I think you’re better off doing it yourself.”

Dustin sighed, wallowing in self pity and bemoaning what he knew was the truth. 

“Probably right on that one,” he conceded, erasing Mike’s name from the upcoming Sundays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, I know this chapter is a little short and mostly fluff, but it was one of the more fun ones to write. I really wanted to get a kind of snap shot into what the boys' domestic life is like while they get to know each other and progress romantically. I have the next chapter and a half written but not typed yet. The place I work is getting ready to potentially open for regular business again after quarantine (though my state hadn't announced an exact date yet) and we are all a little stressed, worrying about if we're going to get infected and what not. On the plus side, if I catch anything maybe I'll get some much needed time off and plenty of time to write. Right? Nothing terrible will happen and I'll just get some extra time to myself?? Positive thoughts.
> 
> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated. Take care of yourselves.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike buys Will a gift. Will completes the tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Not many this time, this chapter is a whole lot of fluff cause the next one is extremely mature so... enjoy the fluff while you have it?
> 
> Mentioned/implied past domestic abuse.

“You… are… sadistic…” Mike panted, chest heaving with every ragged breath he took.

Mike’s lungs were burning, his eyes watered with exhaustion. Sweat was dripping from his nose as he put his hands on his knees, doubled over in misery. This was torture.

“Each… and… every… one… of… you…” he gasped, hair falling into his sticky red face. 

Will halted his pace, arms still pumping to keep his heart rate up as he turned to look at Mike, alarmed at the outburst. Upon seeing the taller man doubled over, struggling to breath, Will trotted over to him. Mike gladly accepted the help of opening his water bottle and took it, gulping it down like it was life blood. Steve paused as well, turning on a heel and continued to jog in place as he watched the pair, mouth open in a much less debilitating pant than Mike’s. 

“You okay back there, Wheeler?” he called, catching Robin’s attention from her place about thirty yards away. 

She turned as well, jogging back towards the men, joining Steve about halfway over. 

“Yeah, you okay Latte Boy?” she asked, eyebrows raised as she watched Mike pour some of the water on his face, soaking his already wet collar. 

“I’m fine,” Mike insisted, still trying to catch his breath as Steve patted him on the shoulder. “You’re all sadistic. Or is it masochistic? Either way, you enjoy this torture too damn much,” he gasped, usuing his damp shoulder to wipe the sweat from his brow, little good that it did. 

“Oh come on, Latte Boy. You’re telling me you walk around looking like that,” Robin said, motioning to Mike’s athletic if sinewy form. “But you can’t run a 5K?”

“You’re smokers,” Mike panted in annoyance. “How can you even run a mile?”

“Hey, I don’t smoke,” Steve protested, clutching his chest in mock hurt and staggering backwards from the wound. 

“The blunt in your fanny pack begs to differ,” Will pointed out, taking a sip of his own water, a little grin hidden behind the bottle. 

Steve made an offended noise but didn’t really offer any rebuttal to the snarky comment from his friend. Mike glanced at the small, lithe man. Will didn’t even look like he was breathing hard. He had a healthy amount of sweat collecting on his clothes, making them cling to him but other than that, Mike wouldn’t have known that the man had been jogging in seventy degree weather for the last half hour. The others in the group had had the good sense to wear shorts and tanks (Steve even forgoing a shirt entirely) but Will still had on his customary long sleeves and pants. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but Will seemed to be used to it. 

Mike had been putting up a valiant effort (wanting to impress Will with his athletic prowess) but was quickly learning that weight training was not the same as being able to run. Will had out paced him from the start, only lagging behind the others with Mike out of politeness. 

“And you shut up,” Mike snapped at Robin, blushing at her friendly dig at his expense. “I can bench press two of you. Easy.”

At least the blush was hidden by the runner’s flush he had. 

“Yeah well, cardio and benching and two different animals, buddy. And you wouldn’t know cardio if it bit you on the ass,” she teased, shifting her weight and stretching. 

“At this rate Wheeler isn’t going to be ready for the Turkey Trot, let alone the Hell on Heels,” Steve joined in the ribbing, grinning. 

Mike sighed. It was probably true. Apparently the Stranger Inks crew closed early on Thursdays to practice running. It was a fact Mike had only been made aware of when he’d stopped by after work to drop off some carry out for the group. He’d been invited along for the run and accepted, not really knowing what he’d gotten himself into at the time. As it turns out, Will and the others had started doing charity runs last year as a team building thing and just never stopped. Now they practiced every week (Steve had a real fear of dying from heart disease after his dad had a scare a while back). The next race was at the end of July and Mike had foolishly agreed to join them for it, looking for any excuse to spend more time with Will. 

Now, standing in the middle of the bike trail, gasping for breath in the sweltering evening air, embarrassed for being shown up in every way, Mike flushed red. 

“He just needs practice, he’ll be fine,” Will said, beginning to rub circles into the taller man’s sweat soaked back. 

It was a nice gesture and Mike resisted the urge to lean into it, lest Robin’s hawk like eyes see. He was less worried about Steve since the other man seemed to have enjoyed a hit or two of said blunt before the jog began. He was cheerful and distracted as always, not keen on noticing minute details at the moment. 

“And Robin, it’s not like you fared any better when you started. I seem to remember someone’s theatrics after a mere 10 minutes on the trail, bitching and moaning that you never wanted to see a jogger smiling ever again as long as you lived,” Will continued, making Mike blink in surprise at the sharpness of Will’s tongue when around just his closest friends (and in Mike’s defense no less). 

Steve bust out laughing and Robin huffed indignantly. 

“I did no such thing. I have always been as graceful and quick as a gazelle. I won’t stand for these lies and slander,” she said, flipping her hair but winking at Mike. “Steve, let’s go. Let Will handle the Latte Boy,” she concluded, pumping her arms again. 

“You sure?” Steve asked, looking like he was about to offer to stay. 

“Yeah, I’ve got this. I could use the break anyway,” Will said, still rubbing Mike’s back lightly.

Robin put a hand on Steve’s naked back and shoved him. 

“Get a move on, Harrington,” she ordered. “If you ever want to tip the score in your favor from ‘You Suck’ to ‘You Rule’, you need to get the lead out of your ass,” Robin finished, giving Will a look before setting off in a half sprint to pass her long legged friend. 

Steve made a noise of protest and took off after her, failing to overtake her as she rounded a corner further down the trail. Mike was grateful to have a moment to breath, even if he was a little embarrassed by the circumstances around it. He took another long drink as Will stopped rubbing his back. Instead, Will grabbed his ankle, pulling it towards his back to stretch his quads while he quietly watched Mike collect himself. He’d removed his headphones when he’d initially trotted over and lay them over his shoulder and now pulled out his phone to turn off whatever it was he’d been listening to. 

“You okay?” he asked, dropping his ankle to grip the other. 

Mike nodded, smiling now that his chest wasn’t burning and his lungs had stopped screaming. 

“I can’t believe you guys do this for fun,” Mike said, wiping his brow with his shoulder again. 

Will shrugged. 

“It wasn’t very fun when I started. I could barely jog for ten minutes at a time, let alone thirty. You actually did really well,” Will assured him. “But after a while, there’s just something really… really freeing about being able to run and run and run,” Will continued, looking a little distant. “It just feels good to be able to know that if worse came to worse, I could just… count on myself to get away.”

Mike glanced at him and Will shrugged again. Did Will want to run away? Maybe not from Mike and the others, but yeah, in the past he probably had wanted to. Maybe this torture was cathardic in some way. Will glanced over at Mike, extending his hand.

“Actually, can I see your phone? There are a few apps that made things easier on me when I started out.”

Mike hesitated. What if Will saw the message from Zach? Mike hadn’t deleted it after blocking the user profile. Something had made him keep the message, he didn’t know what. It wasn’t like he’d gone back to revisit the pictures or enjoyed having them. It just… fed his anger and his desire to _do better_ , give Will better than he’d been given before. But Will still didn’t know about them. If he saw them, he wouldn’t understand. He’d be furious, crushed, maybe even ashamed. Mike’s heart stopped for a second and he choked down rising panic at the thought but Will was still holding his hand out, waiting for Mike to hand the device over. Mike just had to trust him. He handed the phone over, grateful that his face wasn’t betraying his racing mind.

“You’re gonna love these. Plus, if you’re serious about wanting to do charity runs with us, they make it a lot easier to zone out and just go,” Will said, clicking a few times before handing the phone back, blessedly having done nothing other than what he said he was going to do. 

Mike looked down at it, three new apps greeting him. 

“Couch to 5K? C’mon, I’m not Usain Bolt but I’m not a total slouch either,” Mike griped in fake annoyance, scrunching his nose. 

Will grinned. 

“It’s a good app to help you learn how to run and how to train your body. Though, if you’re feeling ambitious, there is a Couch to 10K one instead. You know, since you’re not a slouch. Oh, here, this one is my favorite,” the petite man said, indicating another app. “Charity Miles donates money for every mile you go. It’s not a lot, just a couple of cents per mile, but you get to pick a charity and every time you run, they get money. It can add up after a while.”

“What charity do you donate to?” Mike asked, looking the app over. 

“Oh, um, Nothing but Nets. They help fight malaria,” Will explained. “I’ve logged over three hundrend miles for them so far. It’s a really great charity and I just want to help people, you know? Relieve any human suffering that I can,” he said, a little red, eyes turning to his feet. 

_Because you couldn’t relieve your own?_

Mike nodded, looking at the last app. 

“Zombies Run? What’s that?”

“Oh! That’s an interactive story. It has a built in pedometer and you run around collecting supplies and upgrading your colony of survivors in an apocalypse all while out running zombies,” Will said excitedly. “And they have virtual races you can participate in for extra practice.”

“That’s kinda cool,” Mike said, turning it on. “What do you have to do?”

“Well unless you want to get eaten by zombies… You have to run,” Will chided. “You can turn off the random zombie encounters if you want, but it’s more fun to have it on,” Will said, still talking quickly, with excitement. 

Mike smiled at him. Will only talked like that if it was something he was actually interested or invested in. 

“So what happens if a zombie encounter is generated?” 

“Then you better run faster,” Will warned. 

“Or what? They catch you?” Mike asked, putting his hands on Will’s waist, urging him closer. 

“Yeah. And you don’t want to be caught,” Will cautioned, lowering his voice and resting his own hands on Mike’s forearms, stepping closer to the freckled man in the dying light. 

“Don’t you?” Mike asked, dipping his face until his nose touched Will’s. 

Will shifted, pressing his straight, slightly hooked nose against Mike’s cheek. 

“Not by zombies,” he murmured. “You know, Steve and Robin are gone. They probably have another four miles in that direction before they turn around…”

“It’s only two miles back to the shop,” Mike pointed out, kissing Will’s sweat soaked brow, tasting salt. “It’s getting dark. Can I walk you home?”

“What, not in the mood to run?” the smaller man teased, leaning into the touch. 

“Not really,” Mike murmured, brushing his lips against Will. 

The smaller man took a small breath and smiled, eyes wandering up to look at Mike. 

“I’d love to have you to walk me home, Mr. Wheeler,” he said, moving his delicate hands from Mike’s arms to his own hands, interlacing their fingers. 

Mike ran a thumb over the skin of Will’s knuckles. They’d never actually held hands before. The closest they’d come was the handshakes from their initial meeting and tattoo sessions. Mike’s final appointment was tomorrow. It was strange to think that three months ago Mike hadn’t even known who Will was, that he even existed. They’d been living totally separate lives less than half a mile away from each other most days. Mike looked down at those gentle honey eyes and wondered how he’d spent twenty four years not looking at them, how he’d spent twenty four years not knowing what Will’s skin felt like, what he smelled like, what his voice sounded like, what kind of music he listened to, and what he dreamed about. 

Will seemed to feel the weight of his gaze and moved a little, uncomfortable. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity at Mike’s sudden somber demeanor. 

“I’m great. Just ready to get you home.”

**

Mike hadn’t spent the night, he had to open at four thirty the next morning and knew he would see Will after for his appointment. He didn’t want to be too tired to enjoy the actual, quality time he’d have with Will in the isolation of his workspace, sharing those private, hours long conversations he’d grown used to. But despite not staying the night, just being able to hold Will’s hand as they walked the quickly darkening trail, even passing a few other people without the urge to disengage from their display of affection, had been enough. 

They’d shared their traditional goodbye kiss at the utility door, not caring that they were both sweaty and tired and probably stank to high heaven. Mike had showered and slept like the dead that night, nearly missing his alarm. He hadn’t realized how exhausting running could be but was eager to keep trying, to get better at it for Will, to spend time with him. His shift was agony, never ending. He knew his appointment with Will wasn’t until the evening and as much as he would have liked to head straight over once he was free of the endless line of customers and coffees, it was a little pathetic wasn’t it? Like a stray dog hanging around begging for scraps? Mike would have to find another way to occupy his time. 

He settled on window shopping, exploring the stretch of road Level Up Latte and Stranger Inks shared with other businesses. There were a few bars and eateries, a florist, an adult shop, a comic place, things of that nature. Mike had a drink at the bar, watching the televisions while he waited. He’d even eventually ordered a portabella burger at one of the restaurants, looking for an excuse to avoid heading to the tattoo parlor.

Mike was able to kill the rest of the time in the comic shop, browsing the trade paperbacks. He picked up House of X and Power of X, considering buying them for Dustin who he knew was missing them from his collection. When he’d been planning to leave, he noticed the books he’d seen at Will’s place. They _were_ for a game of some kind and an expansive one at that. Mike looked them over, curious. 

There were _so many_ books. The thought of buying one for Will crossed his mind but the more he looked them over, the less sure he felt. Xanathar’s guide to everything? Was that different from Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes? What was Advanced Dungeons and Dragons? 3.5E? Was that different from Pathfinder? Mike was only rescued when a clerk passed by, noticing him looking. 

“Anything I can help you with?” she asked, pausing to stand next to him.

“Uh, yeah actually. I have a friend who plays and I wanted to get him something but this is all… a lot to take in. I don’t know what I should even be looking for,” he admitted, motioning to well, everything. 

“Okay, well, I can help you out. What edition does he play?” the clerk asked, shifting her weight to look up at Mike. 

“Um, edition?” he asked, feeling a little foolish. 

The girl laughed, touching his arm lightly. Mike glanced down at her but the touch had withdrawn as quickly as it had been placed and she was back to looking at the shelves, standing near him. 

“You’re funny. Don’t even know what edition, huh? Well, in that case all the books and modules are gonna be useless. Don’t worry though, I’ve got you covered,” she laughed, crooking a finger and motioning Mike to follow her. 

He did, stopping behind the red headed woman who was leaning over (pretty deeply, jeans riding low on her hips) to show Mike an insane amount of multi colored dice, all shapes and colors packaged together. Most of the dice were oddly shaped, kinds he’d never seen before. What was the purpose to a twelve sided die? 

“So all players like dice, you can never own too many sets,” the woman was saying. “Now, once you get a good collection going, you’re going to need a dice bag to hold them all. Those are over here,” she said, tugging on Mike’s sleeve to direct him. 

“So these bags can hold up to 120 dice and have pockets you can use to separate them by set or D type,” she explained even though Mike had no idea what she was talking about. 

Who’d have 120 dice? What was a D type?

“And these are the novelty bags,” she said, holding up one shaped like a bulbous, circular monster with a giant eye and tentacles each sporting their own separate eyes. 

Mike looked at the bags, landing on one shaped like a chest with eyes. When he unzipped it, a long purple tongue rolled out of a mouth with sharp white teeth. It looked like the bean bag chair Will kept in his room. Mike turned it over in his hands, smiling a little. 

“Mimic huh? Real classic monster. That one can hold about eight or nine sets, depending on the size of the dice,” the girl said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke. 

“Yeah, my friend’s got a chair shaped like this,” Mike said, still looking the bag over. 

“That’s pretty cool. If he likes Mimics you should pick that up, it’s the last one we have in stock right now. Maybe grab a set or two of dice to stock it with,” she suggested, shifting her weight and motioning back to the dice display. 

“Yeah, I think I will,” he said, smiling down at the short woman. 

She returned the smile, tilting her head to look at him. 

“You work at the coffee shop right? I’m in there every once in a while. I’m Zoe.”

Mike recognized her name but not her face (double shot mocha latte, iced). He really had to get better about looking at customers. 

“I’m Mike,” he said, returning the introduction. 

“So you guys are hiring, huh? I was thinking about putting in an application, picking up a few hours.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Mike replied, not really listening. 

He was concentrating on looking at the dice, trying to decide what style would suit Will. He finally landed on a blue and silver set and one that was pale orange and green, translucent with what looked like flowers or leaves in the center of each. 

“Come on, I’ll ring you up,” Zoe said, leading him to the counter. 

Mike paid for his items and Zoe handed him the receipt, her fingers brushing his. 

“I’ll see you around,” she said, smiling brightly. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Mike agreed, still distracted by how pleased he was with himself for finding a good gift for Will. 

It was nearly seven now, a good time to head over to the parlor. Mike walked over, enjoying the evening warmth as he made his way. The air conditioning of the tattoo parlor was actually a little colder than Mike would have prefered but it didn’t dampen his mood. Mike waved at Steve as he came up to the counter, striding past the new display cases, having already purchased a tee and hoodie for himself last week. Steve returned the gesture, eyes falling on the bag. 

“Hey Wheeler, what’s up? Recovering okay?”

“Ha, yeah. No lasting damage,” he joked, leaning against the counter. “It’s my last session today. Pretty stoked about it.”

“Well for sure, dude. Lot’s of time went into that piece. I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mike grinned, still holding the bag in one hand. 

Steve motioned at it. 

“What’s that?”

“Oh, a present for Will. Kind of a ‘thank you’,” the freckled man explained, showing the contents to Steve. “Think he’ll like it?”

“Yeah, definitely. We had a campaign going that we put on hold the last few months but I know Will’s been missing it. Maybe this will give him some motivation to schedule the next session,” Steve said, examining the gifts. “I personally want to do Tyranny of Dragons but none of us have the module yet.”

_Tyranny of Dragons?_ Mike would have to remember that. 

“Hey, if we get the campaign going again, you should join!” Steve said in excitement, handing the bag back. 

Mike took a step back. 

“Oh, uh, I don’t know how to play.”

“That doesn’t matter, we can teach you. We really need a Barbarian to balance us out. Or maybe a Pally? You’re in med school right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“So you can be our tank and healer. Robin is an Illusion Wizard and I’m a Wild Magic sorcerer. Right now we’re all glass cannons. Will DMs and he runs a DMNPC Grave Cleric that helps sometimes, but it’s not the same as having an actual PC in the group. Will doesn’t like to Metagame so his cleric doesn’t show up that often. We’ve had more than one TPK cause Robin and I are at a standoff over who’s gonna cave and give up the caster class. I’m not doing it. I always end up being the one to give in.”

None of what Steve had just said made any sense. Not a single word of it. Mike shifted again. 

“Anyway, I’ll get you signed in, go ahead and head back there,” Steve said, still grinning. “This is gonna be awesome. Especially once you get into it and get to level two and gain Divine Smite.”

“Hey, uh, I didn’t even say I was going to play,” Mike protested weakly. 

Steve waved a hand dismissively. 

“That’s what I said too but things have a way of changing, you know? Anyway, Will’s waiting.”

Will was relaxing in his usual position on the stool, laptop open, ‘The 70’s Show’ playing in the background. The brunet looked up, spinning his chair to face Mike when he entered. 

“Hey! Are you ready to do this?” Will asked cheerfully, leaning back to accommodate Mike who’d dipped to kiss him in way of greeting. 

Will gripped Mike’s shirt to balance himself, making a small sound of loss when the other man moved to pull away. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked, still holding Mike by the collar of his cotton tee. 

“So ready,” Mike grinned, only standing fully once Will released him. 

The tall man set the plastic bag by the chair and settled in as Will rolled up his sleeves and pulled on his mask. The gloves followed suit shortly after and Will rolled the stool over, needle buzzing to life in his delicate hands. There wasn't much left to do now, only the finishing details and last of the color work. Mike didn’t think it would take long but Will had crossed out the last of his available appointment times anyway. It was a convenient excuse not to have any interruptions once the work was done and Mike appreciated the gesture. It was the least professional thing Will had ever done, at least to Mike’s knowledge. 

Mike enjoyed watching Will work. He always looked so intense, so serious and devoted to his craft. He looked around the room, lamenting that this was perhaps the last time he’d be in this chair, in Will’s workspace while the other man focused in on him, crafting a thing of beauty with only his hands and imagination. The workspace itself had changed since their sessions had begun. The pack of mutated dogs still prowled and the horrifically tall man-like creature still skulked in the shadows of the trees but there was more color now. A few of the crow workups had made their way onto the walls, there was even a vase with early summer flowers in it on the usually clutter free desk. Mike looked them over, struggling to identify any other than the red and orange poppies which he only knew because his mother grew them in her own garden. 

He recalled how Will had suggested flowers as a potential cover up and had painted a field of them on Mike’s back that sunday afternoon. Maybe Will genuinely enjoyed flowers. If he did, he was the only man Mike had known who seemed to (at least openly, without some ingrained sense of shame). He wondered if the flowers had been a gift or if Will had gone out on his own and purchased them. Has anyone ever bought Will flowers before? Had anyone ever thought to? Mike cleared his throat and used his unoccupied hand to motion to the vase. 

“You have a favorite kind?”

“Of what?” Will asked, still working steadily, not looking up. 

“Flowers.”

“Well, I like most kinds. They are all so unique and each has its own meaning, so it kind of depends on my mood. Some are hardy, some delicate. Some need full light to thrive while others do just fine in the shade. There are even flowers that only bloom in moonlight. How cool is that? They’re all beautiful. So no, not really a favorite,” Will finished, still adding color to the nearly complete piece on Mike’s arm. 

Mike considered that answer. It was just about as noncommittal as everything Will said and Mike wondered if it was more of a half truth than anything. Will always seemed to be oddly accommodating to other people, even when asked for _his_ opinion on something. Mike tried again. 

“So what do the flowers you have mean?”

Will paused, turning to glance them over, trying to recall. 

“The Salvia means ‘thinking of you’, but only because it’s blue. Other colors have different meanings. The Amaryllis is ‘pride’, the Poppies are ‘sleep, peace, or death’. Honestly, the whole bouquet is a bit of a mess symbolically, but I like the way they look,” he said, laughing to himself. 

Well, that wasn’t especially helpful. Mike thought about it, about what flower could symbolize his feelings for Will. Roses were romantic, right? But that was too simple, maybe even cliche. Will was complex and so were Mike’s feelings for him. He sat in consideration, recalling the florist he’d seen earlier. Maybe he could ask them for advice on the matter, since he was pretty uneducated in the subject. Mike was so deep in thought that he didn’t even notice when the needle stopped and Will started wiping with the towel. 

“Is it… done?” he asked, surprised. 

“All set,” Will confirmed, smiling serenely. “Ready to see? It’s gonna be a little red and swollen but it should give you a good idea, at least.”

Will removed his gloves and threw them in the waste bin, pulling his mask down around his neck. Mike had seen a faded pink scar on the side of Will’s neck before, below the ear and near the jaw. It wasn’t something that was obvious to a casual viewer, but Mike had spent a good amount of time kissing and working the area lately. Knowing that it was probably from being nearly choked to death had turned that little mystery mark from something cute that Mike liked to kiss (like the spattering of moles that decorated Will’s pale skin) to something sinister. 

The paper mask was resting just below the scar and Mike watched Will’s adams apple bob as he spoke. 

“Mike?”

The tall brunette turned his gaze from the scar to his arm. 

Wow. It looked amazing. 

El’s name and the vines were nowhere to be seen. They had been totally overtaken by the crow and tree around it. The feathers on the bird looked real, like if Mike had wanted to he could reach out and stroke them. The bark of the tree looked rough, some was cracking and falling loose as the talons released their hold on it to take flight. 

“It’s, it’s incredible,” he said, still admiring the piece. “You’re incredible,” Mike continued, turning back to look at Will who was blushing deeply at the compliment. 

“Thank you,” the artist said, having difficulty maintaining eye contact at the outpouring of praise directed at him. 

It was a habit Mike hoped Will would be able to break eventually. He loved looking at Will, loved complimenting him. He didn’t want Will to shrink away from it, from him. Mike leaned forward, picking up the bag from where he’d set it on the floor. 

“I almost forgot, I got you something.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Will said, hesitating to accept the gift. 

“I wanted to. To thank you,” Mike said, urging the other man to take it. 

The quiet brunette finally accepted and peered into the sack, intrigued. A wide smile broke out on his face and Will pulled the items out to examine them. 

“Oh wow, it’s been a while since I played. Thank you for this,” Will said, holding the gifts close to his chest after looking them over. 

“Yeah, Steve told me. He said you guys might be starting a uh, a campaign soon? He sort of invited, well, coerced me into playing if you get one going,” Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to play so... I don’t know how much fun I’d be but I hope these like, help your game? If you get one going again…”

Will finally raised his brown eyes to meet Mike’s dark ones. 

“I’d love to have you in a game with us. And these are perfect, I love them.”

_I love you._

Mike felt like he was floating. He had wanted, hoped, that his gift for Will would be something the other man would want and enjoy. Will had never mentioned Dungeons and Dragons to him before, it had only been Mike’s investigation that had led him to the conclusion that it might be something he’d like. Mike was glad it paid off. 

He wanted to make Will smile, to please him. Mike felt pride at how Will had brightened at the gifts, how it seemed sincere, his appreciation. Mike got the impression based on the blush and avoided eye contact that Will didn’t get many gifts and wasn’t sure how to react when receiving them. It had taken Mike a long time to learn how to read Will’s expressions, to be able to determine what was a mask and what was real. Mike wanted to learn every nuance of Will, all of his tells, all of his mannerisms. Mike stood, approaching the seated man. 

Will watched him, motionless where he sat. 

“Is it closing time?” Mike asked, resting his palms flat on the desk behind Will, boxing him in. 

“I could close early… for the right incentive,” Will murmured, eyes dropping from Mike’s face to his belt. “Let yourself into the apartment, I can finish up here,” the artist said, slowly raising his eyes to meet Mike’s again. 

“Won’t Steve notice if I don’t leave?” the freckled man asked, still caging Will between his arms. 

“Steve knows your my last appointment. He knows I can lock up and close the store without him. Go on, I’ll be back when I’m done sterilizing the equipment,” Will assured him, turning his head to lay a kiss on Mike’s wrist, just below the tattoo. 

Mike didn’t want to go, to leave Will alone to clean his equipment and lock up the store. He wanted to drop to his knees and lean Will back against the desk and bring him to ecstasy right here in his work space. He knew Will would never let him do that, there were still clients and coworkers around. Besides, the curtain offered more an illusion of isolation than anything else. 

Mike lifted his hands and stepped away from Will, feeling anxious and excited. He couldn’t wait to show Will just how much he appreciated and adored him. He just hoped Will would finally let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, this chapter is really fluffy (or about as fluffy as I get) cause the next one is pretty mature and pretty dark. I know this chapter seems a lot like filler but trust me, it's relevant to upcoming story beats. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and will remember this chapter going forward and know that I'm not always horrible to the characters... cause there is pain coming up. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. Take care of yourselves.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will get physical. Mike sees more than Will wants him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Graphic sexual situations and descriptions. Heavy angst. Past abuse. PTSD. This chapter is not for kids I'm serious you guys.

Will had taken maybe forty minutes to finish up with his equipment and closing procedures, plenty of time for Mike to get things ready. The tall man had managed to find a few scented candles in the linen closet where Will kept all those handmade soaps and lit them, leaving only the hall light on for illumination while he worked. Little Mama, still annoyed by Mike’s presence but hungry nonetheless, had demanded her supper from him and he’d obliged her, remembering where Will kept her food. She even offered Mike a small chirp when she settled in to eat and Mike felt oddly satisfied by the sound.

Once he finished with that, Mike moved to the bedroom, setting up one candle on the desk. Very romantic if he did say so himself, and it would provide enough light to see _some_ of Will even if it wasn’t enough to make out details. Will had been surprised when he entered the apartment, pausing at the door only to be scooped up, ushered into Mike’s arms and waiting kiss. Now, sprawled on the bed and tangled up in each other, Mike pulled away. He used his forearms to prop himself up as he looked down at Will’s shadowed form beneath him. 

Will’s lips were parted and wet from kissing, feathery brown hair around him like a halo. Mike had coaxed the slim man’s shirt off, discarding it next to the bed and had peppered kisses all over Will, showering him with them. Mike tasted every inch of skin offered to him, kissed every mole and licked every dip and swell of Will’s body, even the raised, uneven skin that littered his otherwise perfect body. Mike loved watching Will twitch and sigh beneath him. He was so quiet, each sound was like a trophy. Mike’s own shirt had been lost in the covers long ago, discarded and forgotten. Will traced his own fingers over Mike, coaxing him closer, pressing them together.

Mike only pulled away from the touches to edge himself lower, kissing Will’s hips and tugging at the button of his pants. Will squirmed, trying to help the taller man undo them. As Mike tugged the khakis low, started to pull them off of Will’s legs and over his feet, the smaller man started tensing up. It was the closest Mike had ever gotten him to being nude. Typically they would mess around with their pants around the thighs, never fully kicking them off. Pulling them over Will’s feet seemed to startle him and he started to pull away, to push himself up onto his elbows. 

“Mike, um… What are you…”

“Shh,” Mike whispered, kissing Will’s calf as he crawled back up the other man’s body. “I want you,” he murmured, pressing the palm of his hand against Will’s still trapped erection. “I’m so into you, Will. I wanna be with you,” he whispered, massaging the cock beneath his hand. 

“Mike I, are you sure?” Will asked, voice small as he gently thrust into the touch. “I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret,” he finished, still moving steadily into Mike’s touches. 

“Will, even though I’ve never done it before, I can safely say that I really, _really_ want to go down on you,” he chuckled, kissing Will’s jaw. “I want to suck you, I want to kiss you, I want to touch you and hold you. I want us to fuck and fall asleep together at night and I wake up next to you in the morning. Fuck Will, I want you. Not just a little, not just what you show me. I want all of you, I’m not gonna regret it. The only thing I regret is not kissing you and begging you to have me the moment I met you,” Mike finished not even caring he was saying some of the most embarrassing things he’d ever said, not caring that he was rambling and probably making a fool of himself. 

Will stared up at him in the dark, face totally unreadable, hidden in shadow. Slowly, painfully slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows to bring his mouth to Mike’s. It was the most tentative, light touch Will had given him since the first time they kissed. He hadn’t spoken but Mike didn’t care. He had enough feelings and ways to express them for both of them if he had too. If Will had difficulty with it, with voicing his thoughts or if he was unsure about how he felt, Mike would wait as long as Will needed him to. Just please, god, let him feel the same. 

Will deepened the kiss, slowly and with care. He raised his hips, letting Mike slip his briefs off and Mike felt fire. Will was nude and willing and _wanting_ him. 

Mike broke away. Lowering himself down Will’s body, his slight frame, and lifted one of those pale legs over his shoulder, feeling the solid weight and heat of Will’s thigh so near his face. He eased the other man open, spreading Will out while his pretty cock bobbed near Mike’s face, the ring glinting in the light. It was true that Mike hadn’t done this before, but as long as he could mimic what Will did, surely it would still feel good (right?). He took a breath and lowered himself, opening to take Will into his mouth. 

It was strange and difficult. Mike had thought he'd be able to take Will all in one go, the way the other man did, but obviously it was a learned skill that Mike had yet to acquire. Mike choked on his first try and had to withdraw to make a second attempt. Will eased his hips back and away to help. Mike’s second try was more successful. He took in just the smooth tip of the other man, tasting the bitterness of Will’s precum and swirled his tongue through the ring, over his slit. Will twitched a little but held himself back from moving, from overwhelming Mike. 

The curly haired man adjusted, struggling to figure out how to avoid dragging his teeth against Will’s foreskin as he tried to move and bob his head. Mike opted to use his hand and grip Will’s base to try that. He was a lot more comfortable using his hand than his mouth and Will wriggled, trying again to help Mike adjust. Mike was giving it his best effort but was still having trouble. 

Mike thought vaguely of how this would be easier if Will had a pussy. No parts to choke on and once he found a rhythm his partner enjoyed, Mike could continue forever. He shifted, thinking of something new. Mike pulled off, still using his hand to work Will as he moved away. The taller man glanced up the length of Will’s body, admiring the view. 

“You alright? Do you want to stop?” Will breathed, still trying to give Mike an out to the whole situation. 

“I’m fine, just want to try something else,” Mike assured him, climbing up Will’s body to kiss his chest. 

Mike worked the mole on Will’s peck for a moment before rolling onto his back, dragging Will on top of him, his slight weight pressing firmly against the freckled man. Mike pulled away, leaning fully back so he could look up at Will who’s feathered hair was falling in his eyes as he looked back down at Mike. 

“C’mere,” Mike urged, pulling Will by the hips to encourage him forward and up. 

It took a little gentle direction, but Will got the message to get himself into a seated position, straddling Mike’s chest. Will rested his hands on the taller man’s broad expanse of Mike and looked down at him, cock still glistening from saliva and pre. Mike gripped Will’s hips, pulling him forward and tilted his head back, parting his lips. Will shuddered, hips twitching from the sight of Mike open and waiting for him. 

“Jesus, Mike are you sure?” Will asked again, hands moving to Mike’s freckled shoulder, kneading and massaging the meat of him as he tried to support himself on them. 

“I’m so fucking sure,” Mike said, voice hoarse with want. “Now get over here…” he growled, tugging on Will’s narrow hips, digging his fingers into the smaller man’s ass. 

Will hesitated a moment longer before shifting forward, into the warmth of Mike’s mouth. He hissed as the taller man titled his head back further, trying to relax his mouth, trying to accept as much of Will as he could take.

Mike groaned at the sensation. The thick, heavy feeling of Will entering him was intense. Mike had always loved giving oral sex. One of his favorite positions was having a woman on top, sitting on his face and riding him. Having Will, another man, someone he loved, someone so reserved and tight laced taking his pleasure was incredible. Mike was so here for it, moaning and gasping around the shorter man as Will shifted and thrust shallowly into him. This felt amazing if unfamiliar. Mike was especially dominant in bed but he’d never submitted _so fully_ before. Yeah, he loved having a woman ride him, his mouth, his cock, but he’d never had to trust someone sexually so completely before this moment. 

And Mike _did_ trust Will. He trusted the other man not to hurt him, not to choke or gag him as he rode Mike. Will was so gentle, moving slowly, deliberately, just as Mike thought he’d be. He stroked Mike’s curls, massaged his shoulder even as he used it for leverage. The intrusion in his mouth took a moment to get used to, but Mike managed. He forced his throat to relax, not to gag when Will went a little deeper, his head and piercing brushing against the back of Mike’s throat. Mike only struggled to breath a few times but even when he was short of breath, he didn’t care. Mike was a willing vessel for Will to use as long as he liked. At first Mike had closed his eyes, trying to get used to the feeling but now he kept them open, watching Will move above him. Will’s head was forward, eyes heavily lidded as he moved, as he watched Mike _watch_ him move. 

The candles didn’t provide much light but Will’s slim, runner’s body had an abundance of grace to it. He fucked into Mike’s mouth with as much consideration as he could, seeking pleasure while trying to assure the comfort of the taller man. Will was never rough, never too fast or deep. He moved with an amazing amount of control and Mike relaxed into it. This was what he loved so much about giving oral. Having his partner feel good, his own physical needs put on the back burner so he could provide for his lover. Was there really anything better or more fulfilling than helping someone so selflessly, not caring if his own libido was satisfied as long as theirs was? It was a gift that he adored giving over and over. 

When Will’s hips stuttered and Mike tasted more of his bitter pre, Mike tried his best to prepare for the smaller man’s release. Instead, Will pulled away, resisting Mike’s clinging hands on his hips as he pulled back and out of Mike, dragging saliva and Mike’s tongue over the length of him as he did. Mike whined, not wanting to lose the feeling of Will, the taste of him, the weight of him. 

Mike audibly gasped and spasmed as he saw Will grip his cock, ring flashing in the light. 

“Take your pants off,” Will ordered, sending a shiver down Mike’s spine. 

Will was still gripping his base, holding off his orgasm as he climbed off Mike. Will didn’t have to ask him twice. Mike was struggling, wiggling gracelessly to disrobe and kick his jeans away. Will was pulling something from his end table but Mike couldn’t see what. When the slim man returned, crawling back on top of him, Mike lay back, running his hands up Will’s lightly haired thighs to encase his hips once more and watch. 

Will was raised up fully, hovering over Mike. The items he had in his hand had been revealed as a condom and bottle of lube. Mike’s breath hitched and he had to remind himself to breath as Will coated his own fingers with the lube and dipped them between his legs. 

Oh wow. Will was fingering himself, working his way open and Mike felt his aching cock twitch as he watched. Will was still leaking pre, drops of it mingling with the drops of slick that had fallen from Will’s hand to the next of dark curls around Mike’s cock. The tall man’s hips jerked up in desire and anticipation as Will worked.. He hadn’t planned on sex (just having Will in his mouth had been a treat Mike had wanted for weeks), but Will was wanting him and ready. There was no way Mike would turn him down. 

Will was still working himself steadily, adding more fingers, his pretty mouth parted as he took uneven breaths. Mike wanted to help, he wanted to prep Will, but the other man hadn’t asked him to. Mike wondered if it was for the same reason he hadn’t wanted to let Mike blow him. But fuck, there was no part of this Mike didn’t want, nothing about this he didn’t want to do with Will, to experience with him if only Will would allow it. When Will ripped the condom open with his teeth and rolled it over Mike’s own weeping cock, Mike almost cried. The slim man straddled Mike, added more lube to his hand, and started stroking the latex covered dick beneath him, coating him in slick. Mike groaned, thrusting up into the touch. 

“Will,” he whispered, twitching against the other man, wanting desperately to pull him down and kiss him. 

Will sighed and lifted himself higher as he stopped stroking to grip Mike’s throbbing cock. When he finally lowered himself down, Mike wanted to wail at the feeling. 

Will was tight, incredibly tight even after preparing himself. It took three tries to even get Mike’s head in and even then, every inch was something they had to fight to win. Will moved slowly and deliberately, taking those hard won inches one at a time, savoring them. When he was totally settled on Mike, having fully sheathed the other man within him, he paused, adjusting to the feeling. Mike was appreciative. Now that he was nestled in that blessed warmth, he wanted to take a moment to just enjoy it, the stillness of Will on top of him, around him. The reprieve and enjoyment only lasted a few moments. Every instinct in Mike’s body was demanding that he move, thrust into that tight heat, but Mike controlled it. He wasn’t an animal and he _wasn’t_ going to take Will like one. 

Mike concentrated instead on his hold on Will’s protruding hips, the feel of the petite brunettes curves and skin. After a handful of torturously long moments, Will moved, rolling his hips experimentally. It was a languid style, testing the way Mike felt inside him. The freckled man moved a hand, running it across Will’s stomach and felt the muscles there bunch and contract as he moved, still adjusting. Mike gradually raised his hips, not moving in or out of Will’s body because after earning those inches Will hadn’t given any back yet. Instead, Mike used his legs to lift himself and Will from the bed by perhaps an inch, holding them there, pressed in as deep as he could go. 

Will groaned as he was lifted and leaned forward to press his slick hands against Mike’s chest, balancing himself there. When Mike finally lowered them, Will copied the motion, using his own legs to raise himself up and down the length of his tall lover, making them both gasp, a duet of breaths in the dark and quiet room. 

And so it went, Will maintaining all the control Mike had given him, having gladly handed it over. Will worked him, steady and sure. The light of the small flame danced over his body like spirits, casting shadows. It was an amazing sight. Mike could stay like this forever, spend an eternity watching Will ride him. Will was always graceful but this looked like a waltz or a well practiced ballet, with crests and falls, crescendos and decrescendos and the flames and their shadows were Will’s dance partner. Everything about him was beautiful, even the sheet of sweat that had started to form from his excursions and drip from his nose and hair onto Mike’s own damp skin. 

And it _was_ work. Mike could tell by the shaky trembles that had started in Will’s thighs that the artist was tiring. Mike shifted, gripping Will beneath the ass, at the top of his thighs, and helped hold him up. Mike rolled his hips, questioningly, taking the burden onto himself. When Will didn’t offer a complaint, Mike withdrew, thrusting back up (maybe a little rougher than he meant to) and watching the smaller man for a reaction. 

Will hissed, biting his lip to hold back a gasp, making Mike pause. Had that hurt? He tried rolling his hips again in the more gentle motion but Will opened his eyes and stared down at Mike, pupils blown. Mike was startled by the look and held back another movement. Will’s voice broke the silence. 

“Fuck me, Mike. I wanna feel you fuck me. I won’t break,” he whispered, voice scratchy from lack of use. 

Mike shuddered at the words. He’d only heard Will curse once before but Mike had imagined what he’d sound like cussing in bed. How vulgar, how crude and profane and filthy. How totally fucking _arousing_. To hear soft spoken, gentle Will with his kind eyes and tranquil smile asking to be _fucked_ was just _obscene_ and Mike was more than happy to fulfill the request. 

The curly haired man growled, tightening his hold on Will and did just as he’d been asked. He snapped his hips up at an unforgiving pace and pulled down hard on the smaller man. Will whined and keened, doubling forward and braced himself with his forearms, caging Mike’s head, his elbows resting above Mike’s freckled shoulders. Bent forward like that raised his ass slightly in the air, giving Mike more room to move and find a rhythm. With every thrust, every time Mike bottomed out in him, Will moaned, low and stuttering. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Mike,” he panted, breath hot, face mere inches from the other man’s. 

Mike wanted to kiss him, eat at Will and feel the reverberations of Will’s moans in his own mouth. Mike moved a hand from Will’s hip to catch him behind the neck and drew him close. Before he could snag Will in a kiss, the artist had his own hands tangled in Mike’s overgrown curls and tugged at them, urging Mike’s neck back, stretching to bare itself while his chin tilted skyward and Mike groaned at the feeling of Will controlling his movements. 

Will dragged his teeth across Mike’s exposed throat but didn’t bite. He lapped and sucked at the taller man, teeth and lips grazing skin and veins barely trapped beneath the surface as they pulsed and beat with excitement. Yeah, Will had asked Mike to fuck him, but Mike was under no delusions as to who was actually in control. It was undeniably Will and Mike would have done anything, _anything_ to see him pleased, to see him satisfied. 

Mike thrust faster, more shallowly as he felt his orgasm building in his stomach and base of his spine. Will still held his hair, gentle and firm with one hand and Mike had one of his own cradled at the base of his smaller lover’s skull, holding him near. Mike was making helpless, needy sounds and quite suddenly, Will was too. It was music, maybe the tune only Will could hear all those times he hummed to himself. Mike closed his eyes, unable to see Will’s anyway with their faces this close to each other. 

“I love you, I love you, I fucking love you,” he panted into the dark room, not even aware he’d spoken out loud. 

Will whimpered above him at the words. His hold in Mike’s hair tightened for a moment and hot spend coated both their stomachs as Will spasmed around Mike’s swollen cock, milking at him. Mike mewled at the sensation and hissed, a barely contained cry. He let out another, racked sound and thrust four, five more times before releasing and pulsing into the other man. Even as Mike orgasmed, he didn’t want this to be over. Will had released his vice like grip in Mike’s hair but had left his fingers entwined in it, stroking the dark curls gently. It was enough slack for Mike to twist a little, covering Will’s sweat soaked face with kisses. 

The small man collapsed against him, Mike slipping from his body as he did. Will turned, kissing Mike’s temple in the afterglow of their sex. From the look of him, Will was totally blissed out, having been well and thoroughly fucked. His honey brown eyes were still blown as he nestled into the crook of Mike’s neck, softly petting the taller man’s curls. Mike rolled over, curling down to kiss Will’s forehead. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Mike whispered, brushing feather soft hair away from Will’s face. “So incredible.”

Will almost seemed to shrink at that, to shy away. Now that he wasn’t in the throws of passion, he seemed almost embarrassed for his behavior, how aggressive and needy he’d been. Mike stopped him when the smaller man tried to turn his face away to hide it more fully in Mike's shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t do that. Don’t hide,” Mike chided him. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

Will nodded, still not quite looking at Mike. 

“You don’t have to hide from me, ever. I think you’re the most amazing person,” Mike assured him, still stroking Will’s hair. 

Will shifted, still not speaking but settling in more fully, like the tension was starting to leave his body. Mike didn’t want to move or pull away, but they were both a mess and the condom had to be disposed of. So even though he didn’t want to, Mike rolled over and stood, tying off the condom and tossing it into the garbage. Will rolled over and looked at him, unreadable as ever. 

“You alright…?” Mike asked after a moment, worried that Will might be about to shut down again. 

“I’m good. I was just thinking I needed a shower,” Will said, rolling from his side to his back and stretching. “And I was wondering if you wanted to bring that candle and join me,” he finished, much less somber than he’d been a few moments before. 

Mike grinned. Will hadn't returned the words of love but Mike could feel them, even unspoken.

“I would definitely, definitely want to join you for that,” Mike agreed, moving towards the bed to plant a kiss on the relaxing and stretched out artist. “Definitely.”

**

Mike may have well moved in with Will with the amount of time he spent at the other man’s place over the next couple of weeks. He had to admit, it was much more convenient work wise at least. It was just a short walk across the street from Stranger Inks to Level Up Latte and Will had even given him a copy of his key so that Mike could lock up behind him when he left for the day. Plus, it saved on gas and time and waking up at three thirty when he had to open the store meant Mike got to watch Will sleep for a while. Aside from the times Will would twitch or cry out in his sleep, apparently fighting unseen demons, the small man was a surprisingly heavy sleeper. 

When those happened, Mike could usually soothe Will back to sleep with a few gentle touches but occasionally, Will would wake in a cold sweat, tears clinging to his lashes. During those times, Mike would kiss him softly, reassure Will that he was safe and well. Once or twice it hadn’t worked and Mike would end up drawing Will a bath and giving him privacy. Will always seemed more relaxed after but didn’t really want to talk about what was going on with him. Mike was fine with that. Will would confide in him eventually, Mike was sure he would. He just needed time.

The only real problem had arisen one day when Mike spent the night and hadn’t parked across the street and had used the carport instead. He’d had the day off and had forgotten to wake early to move his vehicle. He and Will were dead asleep when Robin came in, having used her spare key to unlock Will’s apartment. 

“Will! Hey you up? Some jackass parked his car in my spot, I had to take Steve’s. You still have the number to that towing company we use?” she called, voice ringing out and startling both men from their slumber. 

Will had shot up, trying to catch her before she reached the bedroom door which was wide open. His pajama pants hung loosely around his hips and his hair was a mess as he stumbled half naked in the morning light to block his friend, but Robin walked briskly and made it to the door before him. Robin raised her eyebrows in surprise as Will tried to use his lithe frame to block her view but Mike hadn’t been fast enough to pull the covers over himself (he was always so sluggish in the morning) and she saw him. 

“I knew it! I mother fucking knew it!” she laughed even as Will shoved her out of the doorway. “Heya Latte Boy! Nice ass!” she called, laughing the entire time. 

Mike rolled over, flushed and embarrassed but still managing to find humor in the situation. Mike hadn’t been naked but the boxers he wore didn’t leave much to the imagination and Robin had gotten an eyeful. The brunette piercing artist had been suspicious for a long time but seeing Mike near naked in bed was probably her ideal way of gaining confirmation. Hopefully she enjoyed it. Will followed his friend out the door, speaking to her in hurried and hushed tones. Mike quickly pulled on his jeans as Will returned, turning to close the door behind him. Mike looked up at him and froze. 

It was morning. There was full light in the room. Will hadn’t woken before Mike and gotten dressed while Mike slept on. For the first time Mike could actually see Will’s usually hidden body. 

His back was covered in scars. Most of them were white, long healed lines, maybe five inches long and _thick_. A lot of them overlapped each other and there were a few circular ones on his right shoulder, starting at the blade and moving around towards the front of his body. The long ones looked deep, and angry. A little light purple hovered around the edges, telling their age. Maybe a year or two at the most had passed since whatever had caused them had occurred. 

When Will turned, pressing his back to the door so he was facing Mike, even more scars revealed themselves on his torso. Some looked the same as the scars on his back. A few of the thick ones marred his biceps and shoulders, one on his stomach, near his hip. Mike had seen that one the day Will had painted his back but hadn’t recognized it for what it was. Those strange circular ones seemed to be relegated to his right shoulder and arm but there were others too. These ones Mike had seen before. Those were the thin, pale ones that decorated Will’s wrist and forearms, mostly on the left side. 

Mike’s stomach dropped. Some of the scars on his arms weren’t old. Some were still healing, still scabbed over even. Mike felt certain that Will hadn’t, _couldn’t_ have made all the marks that he had but the ones on his left arm… Will was right handed. Will kept a straight razor in the _shower_. No, Will hadn’t done all of that to himself but… He’d done some. 

It seemed to take Will a moment to realize that Mike could see him, really _see_ him. When he did, Will froze too, then immediately tried to hide himself. He wrapped his arms across his thin chest, tried to turn away. Mike moved towards him, wrapped his arms around the other man, covering Will with himself and holding him. 

“Will, hey, what happened?”

Will shook his head but didn’t try to pull away immediately. Mike cupped Will’s face, trying to meet his eyes.

“Will, come on,” he soothed, stroking the pale man’s cheeks. 

“Mike, please,” Will stammered, trying to move, to wriggle away now but with nowhere to go, trapped between Mike’s arms and the door. 

Mike withdrew his hand from Will’s face, unsure. 

“Will…”

“Please,” the artist begged, voice starting to quaver as he continued to squirm.

Mike watched him, mouth feeling like he had been chewing cotton. Will was still trying to hide. He was hunched in on himself, trying his best to cover the marks on his body but failing miserably. The scars were everywhere and there was no hiding them now. 

God, no wonder Will didn’t own t-shirts or have tattoos. He wanted the dark to hide in, the clothes to protect him from people seeing. Mike recalled Will’s critical examination of his own skin when they had first met. He remembered that first, very strange compliment Will had given Mike as he worked on the tattoo. But Robin didn’t recoil when she saw Will blocking her way, she didn’t seem surprised in the slightest and Will hadn't tried to hide from her the way he was hiding from Mike now. She must know. She was probably the one who’d done Will’s piercings, Will must have trusted her enough to tell her, to show himself to her. Mike clenched his jaw in frustration as the other man shook his head again, still refusing to meet Mike’s eyes or speak to him about what happened. 

“Will, god damnit, talk to me!” he bust out, voice louder than he’d intended. 

Will flinched, tried to make himself even smaller than he already was (making himself a smaller target to strike, protecting his vital areas?). Will tried again to squirm and get away but Mike was blocking his escape, trapping the artist. Mike immediately regretted shouting and lowered his volume, trying to touch Will’s face again.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I love you,” Mike whispered as he touched Will’s cheek. 

It was damp. Was Will crying? Mike ducked his head, bending at the waist to see. How many times had Will cried before he’d learned how to do it in total silence? Will had stopped trying to pull away and hide now. He was pliant to Mike’s touch, let Mike move his face any direction the taller man wanted. It was almost worse than Will trying to get away from him. 

“Will, are you okay? What happened?” he asked, voice still a whisper, afraid to speak any louder than that. 

Will raised his wet eyes to meet Mike’s but they looked dead, like the life had gone out of him. Will was retreating inward since he couldn’t physically escape. Mike swallowed bile as it rose in his throat. 

“I’m fine,” Will replied, voice even and without inflection. 

“Will, please talk to me,” Mike asked of the other man, his own voice cracking with the sheer amount of emotion he felt. 

Will blinked, eyes still flat and unreadable. This wasn’t the Will Mike knew, this was a shell. Was this a defense mechanism Will had developed, becoming as complacent as possible to avoid a conflict? Mike wanted to shake Will, snap him out of it. He resisted. 

“Will… Please. I love you, you can talk to me,” he pressed, desperate to see some kind of recognition in Will’s face, some kind of trust. 

The smaller man looked up, totally irenic, brown eyes still glistening and damp but not shedding anymore tears. 

“The last person who said they loved me is the one who did this. He told me he was going to make sure no one would want me again. Make sure no one would give me a second look. So I'd stop whoring around,” Will said, voice flat as his eyes. 

Mike recoiled like he’d been struck. His heart pounded and he almost choked on the lump that had formed in his throat. He struggled to find his voice, to find the words he wanted to say. 

“Zach.”

Will blinked again. 

“Yeah.”

Mike wanted to let Will know that he knew, knew about Zach and the past abuse. He wanted to tell Will, assure him that he would never, _ever_ do anything like that. The words fell short, crumbling like ash on his tongue. He tried anyway. 

“Will I, I wouldn’t… You know that. I love you.”

The words sounded weak even as he said them. Not because he thought he would ever hurt Will, but because he knew Will didn’t believe him. And why should he? Someone he trusted was the one to do something so horrific to him. Why wouldn’t another? Why wouldn’t Mike?

“Will, I want you. I love you, I-”

“-I’m ruined. He ruined me,” Will breathed, body going slack, leaning heavily against the door. 

Mike shook his head, hot fury burning it’s way down his spine. 

“No, he didn’t. What he did was unforgivable and terrible, but he didn’t ruin you. You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you’re amazing and kind and I love you,” Mike growled, anger making his voice ragged. 

Will’s dead fish eyes were still raised but he wasn’t really looking at Mike. He was looking somewhere past him, like he could see into the ethereal plane. 

“I need to get ready for work,” Will said vaughly, like he’d just remembered what had roused the pair in the first place. 

Will still didn’t try to pull away even after his announcement. Mike stepped back, wanting desperately to hold Will but knowing by now that he really shouldn’t. This wasn’t the time to trap the artist or force him to be touched, even if Mike couldn’t think of a better way to comfort him. Instead, he moved away slowly, watching Will still lean against the door. 

“Will I-I’m sorry,” Mike whispered. 

Will closed his eyes. 

“Don’t be. I deserved it.”

“No!” Mike snarled and quickly softened as Will winced again. “No, you didn’t. Please just… You didn’t,” Mike murmured, fighting back his own angry tears. “No you didn’t.”

Will shook his head, eyes still closed. He slowly righted himself from his slouched position and stepped towards his closet to start pulling out clothes. The movement seemed robotic, automatic. He didn’t really seem to even be seeing or recognizing what he was pulling out. Will was running on autopilot. 

“I have to shower,” he muttered, still very even and quiet. 

Mike nodded, picking up his own shirt and pulling it on. He knew Will was asking him to go without saying the words. Mike wanted to give him space, to let him decompress and get back to normal (if that was possible. Wasn’t Robin worried about Will losing all his progress? Was this the event that would tip the scales?). He didn’t think Will would be able to feel safe enough with anyone else around him, even if it was someone who loved him. Mike opened the bedroom door to excuse himself and leave the building. Before he did, Mike made a pit stop in the bathroom and quickly pocketed the straight razor in the shower, not wanting to take a chance with Will as frail and unstable as he seemed to be right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I did warn you we were getting into mature themes and it's not really going to let up much in the upcoming chapters. Will is going to have to deal with his trauma and all of us with him. I hope you enjoyed it and will be back for the next installment coming later this week. Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement and remember to take care of yourselves.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally talks about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter include past abuse, PTSD, past non-con, past domestic abuse, and a referenced/implied suicide attempt. Please only read if you are okay with seeing this content. Seriously folks, this is the second chapter in a row that has pretty harsh themes and content and it can get pretty explicit at times.

Turns out it would take a lot more than a day for Will to get back to himself. Three days after and he still only responded to texts in one or two word sentences. When Mike went to visit him, Will was withdrawn, uninterested in affection, or food, or even sleep. That’s how Mike found himself on the bike trail at eleven at night, struggling to keep up with Will who was at least two hundred yards (if not more) ahead of him. 

Mike had suggested the run as a way to let Will burn off some of his anxious energy and hopefully drain him enough to let him sleep that night. But Mike wasn’t a runner (not the way Will and Steve and Robin were) and despite the lack of sleep and nourishment, Will was _fast_ and seemed to have boundless endurance. Mike had been able to mostly keep pace at first, but not now. Now he was lagging so far behind in the dark he could hardly see the reflectors on the back of Will’s shoes, could barely even see the trail ahead of him as he ran. Mike wanted to stop, to just take a damn breath but he refused to give in, to lose his line of sight on the other man so far ahead of him. 

His resolve alone wasn’t enough and despite his best efforts, the tall man was struggling, nearly tripping over his own feet in the dark. He stumbled, having to swing and windmill his arms to keep from falling and catch himself before he completely wiped out on the asphalt. When he managed to find his footing, Mike couldn’t see Will anymore. 

His heart thumped uncomfortably as he looked ahead and tried to catch his breath. Okay, there was no reason to panic. Nothing had happened in the six or seven seconds it had taken Mike to find his balance and right himself. Mike took a deep breath and started running again, this time having no beacon at all to follow. Will was fine, Mike just had to calm down and keep going and he’d catch up eventually. It didn’t take terribly long to locate Will again (only the longest ninety seconds of Mike’s life) and he saw as he rounded a corner that Will was finally slowing to a jog, pulling up to make a full stop. 

Mike was relieved, he’d be able to catch the other man soon. The relief only lasted until Mike saw the darkened figure on the trail ahead of him collapse to the pavement. Yeah, that killed the feeling of comfort at seeing Will pretty quickly. Mike didn’t have the breath to spare to call out to Will, he just had to keep moving forward, occluding the panicked cries that tried to escape him. The small, shadowed figure on the trail ahead was kneeling, bent forward over himself and making small, piteous sounds that got louder the closer Mike got. By the time Mike was finally close enough to Will to clearly make out his stooped form, the sounds were more clear and higher in intensity. 

Will was hunched in on himself, hands curled into fists on the pavement. His body was shaking and the racked, horrible noises he was making were sobs. 

Mike wanted to go to him, to comfort him in some way but was afraid to. This was the most emotion Will had displayed since the incident. Hell, Mike couldn’t _ever_ recall seeing Will break down like this, he usually had so much self control. If Mike touched him, would Will shut down completely, retreat back into that safe place in his own mind again? How long would it last this time? Mike watched as Will raised his head to the sky and let out a shuddering wail, a howl of pain and slammed his fists against the pavement. 

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, you son of a bitch!” the small man snarled, baring his teeth to the quiet moon and stars who didn’t offer a reply. 

Mike took a step forward, still irresolute. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you!” Will cried again, slowly collapsing into himself, curled into a ball around his knees. 

Mike moved around his small lover to crouch in front of him. Mike still didn’t try to touch him (even though he wanted to). He just watched, waiting for Will to finish releasing his emotions, to finish letting all the toxicity flow out of him in a flood of tears and curses. Well, if nothing else the physical exhaustion seemed to have done the trick and broken down Will’s mental barriers. The petite brunette was finally forced to face what he was feeling and it was… intense. To be honest, Mike was happy to see the anger. It meant Will was still in there, that he was still fighting. 

Mike sat on the hard pavement, his legs finally giving out from the fatigue he felt. He watched Will cry and gnash his teeth and rage, near but not invading. The fit lasted maybe five minutes if that, before easing into gentle, quiet crying. Eventually, the smaller man reached a hand out towards him and Mike moved, pulling Will close and into his arms. Will nestled in, letting Mike take all of his weight as the cries turned to whimpers and after a while, just shallow breaths. Mike didn’t mind that he was starting to cramp up from holding his position for so long. Will was calming down, he was breathing evenly and ultimately pulled away, wiping at his eyes and nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, glancing up at the taller man who he’d rested against. 

“Hey, don’t be. It’s fine. You doing okay?”

Will nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He looked unsteady, wobbly from his excursions. Mike supported him, helping him find his feet on shaking legs. 

“I want to go home,” Will mumbled, pressing into the touch. 

Mike agreed with that. It was late and even though this part of the trail was fairly isolated, there was still a chance some well meaning person had heard Will’s outburst and called the authorities. Mike was really in the mood to be interrogated, he just wanted to go. The tall man kept his arm around Will, walking quietly until they made it back to the safety of the parlor. Will looked worn out, truly tired for the first time in days. 

Mike didn’t want to put Will to bed dirty, covered in sweat and dried tears, so he went to the bathroom, turning on the shower and turned to search for a towel. Will was standing in the hall, blocking Mike’s path and sort of swaying on his feet. The smaller man was watching Mike, eyes heavy. When Mike touched his shoulder to rouse him, Will looked up, still quiet. When he finally moved, acknowledging the touch, it was to start stripping his clothes off, starting with the sweatshirt. 

Mike turned, trying to give Will privacy to undress. Considering how Will had reacted the last time Mike had seen his body, this seemed like the best course of action Mike could think of. He was surprised, shocked really, when Will reached up and touched his face, turning Mike back to look at him. Mike swallowed, clearing his throat as Will continued to strip. The shorter man had pulled his undershirt off, leaving it forgotten by his feet where he’d kicked off his shoes and dropped the sweatshirt. Mike tried to focus on his face but Will shifted, drawing the curly haired man’s attention to the exposed part of his body. Will was offering this, encouraging it even. He wanted Mike to see him. When Will started shifting, easing his jogging pants off, Mike observed him. 

Will was small, so much smaller than he looked without layers of clothes to hide beneath. After half a week of only picking at his food, Will looked downright gaunt, as if his pale skin was spread too thin across his bones. The scars were still there (that hadn’t been some horrific nightmare) and Will’s boney chest rose and fell with each of his breaths. Mike ran a hand across Will’s sunken belly, tracing the thick scar that marked him around the pelvis and hip. Will twitched but didn’t step away. 

Mike moved his fingers higher, over Will’s thin chest, touching one of the circular scars, the pads of his fingertips lingering there. Mike had done a rotation in the burn unit. He knew what these were. Will sighed, releasing a held breath at Mike’s touch. Had he been expecting Mike to recoil from him, from the sight of him? The tall man dipped his head and kissed the mark, then kissed the mole next to it. It wasn’t revolting, it didn’t disgust Mike. It was just another part of Will; something born from pain that told a chapter of his story.

Will had angry, deep cuts on his wrists, both arms this time instead of isolated to the left side, straight up and down spanning almost from elbow to palm. Mike must not have found every razor Will owned when he took the one from the shower (or he’d bought another). They looked like they could use stitches. Mike had a suture kit at home, he’d have to bring it by in the morning. Had Will… Mike didn’t want to think about it. Will was here and he was alive and he was fine. He was going to be fine. 

The tall, dark haired man slipped his own clothes off and led Will to the shower. They stayed there, Mike washing them both, scrubbing away the sweat and dirt from their bodies, washing the grease from Will’s hair until the water was cold. He lay quietly with Will in bed, Little Mama nestled behind Mike’s knees, Will pressed into his chest until Will finally slept. 

Mike texted Dustin, letting him know Mike wouldn’t be able to make it into work for the next few days and then Robin and Steve, telling them the same for Will. Mike watched Will sleep and pet his hair, carding through it as lightly as he could so as not to wake the other man. Mike stayed there and slept for a few hours before waking. Will slept on, having shifted in his sleep so he was on his stomach, face curled into his arm. Mike rolled away, pulling on the spare clothes he kept and Will’s and left the apartment, locking it securely behind himself and headed out. 

He stopped at the store, picking up eggs, avocados, orange juice, and sesame bagels (Will’s favorite). The florist wouldn’t open till eight so Mike settled for flowers bought in the produce section of the grocer (mostly zinnia’s but a few peonies had found their way into the bouquet). While Mike searched for a vase he picked up a sketchbook and bought that as well. Mike was really just looking for anything to cheer Will up, that would let him know Mike cared and wasn’t going to abandon him. He stopped home without waking Dustin so he could grab his suture kit and supplies before leaving again. 

Mike returned to Will’s well before six and set about putting the flowers in the vase, feeding the cat who trailed behind him while we worked, and starting on the laundry they’d left on the hall floor after the run. Mike didn’t consider himself a great cook of any real talent but he knew how to balance his macros so he did his best to make a meal for Will that would be appropriate. Egg whites for protein, carbo load him with the bagels, and lots of healthy fat from the avocados. A simple meal but something that would help Will recharge his batteries. Hell, Mike even got fancy and added tomato slices for flair. 

He woke Will with gentle touches and soft words, a kiss on the head. The petite man looked up at him in the morning light, disoriented and confused. Mike gave him the juice and a handful of vitamin supplements, urging his lover to take them before eating. Will managed to choke down about half of the plate but couldn't stomach the rest. Mike didn’t blame him. After days of barely eating anything at all, it was no surprise Will couldn’t handle more. 

Mike felt bad when he worked on Will’s arms. He didn’t have any anesthetic in his kit and he knew it hurt. Will didn’t seem to care. Obviously he’d suffered worse pain before, maybe stitches without pain relief was an afterthought compared to some of the other things he’d endured. Mike didn’t grill him about the wounds. Will had shown them to Mike willingly, he’d talk about it eventually. Besides, getting Will pink slipped was useless. Mike would be here 24/7 to keep an eye on him while he recovered. He’d try to get Will to set an appointment with a professional while Mike stayed with him, as a way to get him continued care and medication. 

Mike had done the dishes, letting Will relax in the bedroom while Mike encouraged him to keep drinking the juice and get calories in that way at least. By day three this new routine of Mike waking early to buy flowers, prepare food, and care for Will, the artist finally started to confide in him. After making love and before drifting to sleep, Will finally spoke on the subject. 

“I met Zach when I was in high school. I was sixteen, he was twenty three. I thought it was really flattering, you know, having someone older interested in me. I thought it meant I was mature. I never wondered why people his own age weren’t dating him. I think he went after me because I was just an easier target. Someone who could be, I don’t know, molded? Trained?”

“Groomed,” Mike supplied, stroking his hand down Will’s arms and skinny ribs. 

“Yeah. It was easy for him too. I was kind of a loser in school, an outcast. My dad was never around when I was a kid and even though my mom’s boyfriend tried, I was kind of hard to connect with. So when Zach showed up and gave me all this attention I sort of projected onto him, you know? An older man who took care of me and made me feel special.”

Will was quiet for a minute but when he spoke again, eyes distant (so far away), Mike listened. 

“I moved in with him my senior year, as soon as I turned eighteen. My mom didn’t like it but I was pretty defiant and teenagers always know everything. Zach wasn’t always controlling, that started once I moved in. He didn’t want my mom to come over and visit, he didn’t like her ‘invading our space’. He didn’t want me to go visit her on holidays either because ‘we needed to form our own traditions’, that kind of thing. It got worse once my mom and Bob moved to Richmond. Then I was really alone.”

“The first time he hit me wasn’t even over anything big. I got a little mouthy in front of his friends and embarrassed him,” Will said, eyes a little red. 

Mike had seen Will get snarky with Robin and Steve before, tease them or poke fun. Was that what Zach had considered ‘mouthy’? Mike pushed a strand of hair out of Will’s face and nodded, encouraging him to continue. 

“It wasn’t a full on beating or anything, not like how things ended up. Just a few slaps.”

Wasn’t that enough? Didn’t that already cross the line?

“He was sorry after. Really apologetic and sweet. He said he shouldn’t have lost his temper but that I shouldn’t have embarrassed him like that. I was sorry too and I forgave him.”

Will closed his eyes and took another breath. 

“Zach paid all the bills since I didn’t have a job. I thought it was because he wanted to take care of me, you now, play the provider role. But I think he just wanted me to be reliant on him for everything, so he could keep score on who owed who. I didn’t even have my own bank account or phone. It bugged Zach when I wanted to use his to call my mom or brother, so I stopped asking. I couldn’t go anywhere that wasn’t in walking or biking distance so I started walking around the neighborhood a lot. I made friends with some of the guys who played basketball around the apartment complex and they’d give me rides if I asked. Zach… didn’t like that. He uh, broke my wrist one time when he was dragging me home. Not a big break, but a hairline fracture. It hurt and was swollen but he said it was my fault, so he waited two days to take me to urgent care for pain management and a brace.”

Mike frowned, grinding his teeth together. He couldn’t imagine _breaking_ someone’s wrist and then refusing them medical attention for _days_ just to, what, prove a point? Mike kept his thoughts to himself and continued to stroke Will’s hair. 

“One time when we were drinking with his friends I um, I drank too much and one of them… he uh…” Will trailed off, apparently losing his courage. 

Mike kept petting Will’s hair, waiting for him to continue at his own pace. 

“He um… Zach, he uh… he offered me up. They, they took turns and I tried to like it because Zach was into it but… he called me a whore after and beat me. I barely even remember it and Zach and his friend was the one who instigated it but I was the one who got punished,” Will trailed off, voice cracking. 

He sounded humiliated to be admitting to something like that. Mike squeezed him, silently letting him know it was okay. Mike didn’t think Will was a whore. He’d been young and intoxicated and trying something new he thought would please his partner. They’d taken advantage of Will, of the state he’d been in. It sounded an awful lot like… well…

Will cleared his throat. 

“Anyway, he apologized and I felt guilty about my part in it so… I didn’t even try to get independence until I was twenty. That’s when I saw the ad for this place. It had just opened and Steve was a miserable apprentice so I gathered up as many sketches and drawings of mine that I could find and brought them to show Robin and Steve at my interview. I’m honestly amazed they hired me. I’d never had a job before and I had no professional experience or reliable transportation other than my bike. I wasn’t exactly the ideal candidate… I think I probably stuttered the whole time and didn’t look them in the eye once but they hired me anyway. I don’t think I can ever express how grateful I am to them, that they gave me a chance. I think they maybe… that they saved my life,” Will breathed, voice shaking. 

_They probably did._

“The scars… Zach started hitting me where people couldn’t see, since I had a job and would be under someone’s direct supervision. He started burning me with cigarettes too, cause it was less effort I guess, and it hurt a lot more than a busted lip. Took forever to heal.”

Will shifted, showing the right side of his shoulder and chest. Mike bent, kissing the marks tenderly. 

“Robin and Steve noticed when I had to take days off or if I couldn’t move my hand properly. How was I supposed to work if my dominant arm hurt too bad to move? I think Zach was trying to force me to quit. Well they cornered me and got the truth out. They helped me escape. It wasn’t hard once I told them. Robin kept the store open so if Zach drove by nothing would look off, but Steve went by our apartment and took all my stuff. I didn’t have a lot so it only took one trip. I lived with Steve for a few months while they renovated the back of the shop for me. Zach found out and he and Steve got into it when Robin threw him out of the store, and Steve wouldn’t send me out or back to him. He broke Steve’s nose and served a little time for that but it meant Steve and Robin could get a restraining order on him, and they used it to protect me. Steve is a great guy,” Will reminisce, smiling a little. “He never acted like it was a burden, like _I_ was a burden. I can never thank him enough for it.”

Mike couldn’t either. Mike had always like Steve but had thought of him as a goofy stoner more than anything. Steve was apparently made of stronger stuff than Mike had given him credit for. 

“We’ve been broken up for two years now. When I saw him that night… I don’t know. I know it was dumb to talk to him alone but I guess I thought enough time had passed that I could finally stand up to him. Tell him off for all the shit he put me through. I don’t know what happened. I guess old habits are harder to break than I thought so um, when you saw me… I um… I knew what he did to me made me ugly and pathetic and it was just… It was a lot,” Will finished, burying his head in Mike’s chest. “I… I knew you wouldn’t want me anymore. I’m so damaged… no one could want me anymore. He ruined me. He took the best pieces of who I was from me. I’m worthless.” 

Mike flared at that and pulled the smaller man close to him, wrapping Will in his body, shielding him as silent tears spilled. The only way that Mike could tell Will was crying was by the pattern of his breathing, the tiny trembles that shook his body. Mike kissed Will’s head, stroked his hair and face and drew him into a kiss, only breaking it to whisper,

“You’re beautiful. You’re clever and talented and I love you. I love you so much, Will.”

Will let out a choked sound and fell against Mike, curling into him and letting out a sob. Mike wrapped a long leg around the other’s thigh and pulled him closer into the embrace. 

“You’re gorgeous and smart and creative. You’re not pathetic. You’re funny and strong and I love you, Will Byers.”

Will cried harder, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle the sounds as Mike held him. Even muffled, the noises echoed around the room and Mike felt his heart break. Will didn’t deserve this kind of pain. He didn’t deserve to feel like he had to quiet his tears so they wouldn’t bother anyone. 

“Don’t hide, Will. Please don’t hide from me. I love you, _all of you_ and I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to go anywhere unless you ask me to,” Mike soothed, resting his chin on Will’s head. 

Will shook hard, still trying to keep himself quiet. After several long minutes, the shaking stopped and Mike heard a soft gasp for air. Will tilted his head to look into Mike’s dark eyes, his own paler ones red from crying. 

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing his face into the crook of Mike’s arm. 

It was the sweetest sound Mike had ever heard. 

**

The following days were bliss. Will and Mike ate their meals together, ran together, cleaned and drank and played Rock Band late into the night. They fell asleep after making love, only waking in the night to do it again before drifting back to sleep. Mike still bought flowers everyday. The apartment was quickly filling with them and the overflow was making its way into the parlor itself. Mike still hadn’t found the one that spoke to his feelings for Will but felt sure he was getting closer. He’d been right, roses were too basic. Will was unique and strong and so were Mike’s feelings for him. Mike knew he’d find the right one eventually. 

But the bliss had to end and they both had to return to their lives at some point. Upon returning to work, Mike discovered that the clerk, Zoe, had been hired while he’d been holed up with Will. She was a good worker and had been happy to pick up the slack left in the wake of Mike’s impromptu staycation. Mike appreciated it and bought her lunch as a ‘thank you’.

Mike worked fewer hours than Will but managed to live comfortably off a stipend provided by his parents as long as he was in school. Speaking of which, he’d registered for fall semester and knew his time would be even more limited soon. Mike felt weird about hanging around the apartment while Will worked, so he started running on his own for the extra practice. He still couldn’t run long enough to match the others but that was okay. Mike managed to survive the ‘Hell on Heels’ run without having to walk any of it. He and Will had celebrated, going out to eat and then fall into bed together, happy and full. 

Mike was happy that Will didn’t look emaciated anymore. His slim form was filling out a little, the excess calories being transformed into smooth muscle and he had a healthy color to his face now. They’d been getting a little wild, a little kinky with bites and hair pulling and enthusiastic sex when it happened. Mike had pinned Will’s hands above his head and held him there, stretching him out and elongating Will while Mike hitched the other man’s legs up, pressing them into his chest as Mike moved and thrust. He wasn’t sure how long it took him to notice (surely not long. Please not long,) but Will had gone still, taunt as a drawn bowstring. Will was silent, eyes closed, teeth gritted as he held back what looked like a scream. 

Mike immediately let go and withdrew, alarmed. His dick wilted at the sight of the fearful expression on Will’s face. 

“Will, are you okay?” he asked, just this side of panicked. “Did I hurt you?”

Will shook his head, eyes still closed, jaw clenched. Mike pulled further away, trying to give Will room to breath as the smaller man collected himself. A minute passed before Will finally opened his eyes, mouth parted, breath still uneven. 

“Will?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” he panted, looking up at Mike. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Zach used to- to keep me still. If I didn’t, if I didn’t want to.”

_So when he raped you._

Mike felt ill. The night he’d met Zach he’d suspected the blond had been trying to get Will somewhere private to assault him when Mike had intervened. Mike had assumed that Zach had done it in the past, but to think something _Mike_ had done had caused Will to have a flashback, had _reminded_ Will of Zach in any way… Mike wanted to wretch. 

Will wiggled, looking up at his tall lover now that the memory had faded. He hooked a leg around Mike’s waist. 

“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me,” he tried to assure Mike. “I’m fine.”

Mike shook his head. He was totally soft now, so disgusted by himself and by what Will told him. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to-”

Mike cut Will off, kissing his knee. He couldn’t continue the way he had been, but he could still satisfy Will another way. Mike settled between Will’s legs and set to work, trying to apologize for what he’d done. Will relaxed into the touches, wrapping his fingers in Mike’s now shoulder length curls. Mike was able to finish him fairly quickly, having learned a few tricks over the past weeks. Will slept soundly while Mike struggled to find enough peace to settle in. 

Blessedly, incidents like that were few and far between. Will seemed to have real trauma that apparently revolved around sex, intimacy, and power dynamics in a relationship. Mike did his best to navigate the minefield that was Will’s psyche without setting any of the bombs off. Mike found that as long as he followed Will’s directions (both verbal and physical) that he was mostly successful. 

And it was good for both of them, honestly. Mike giving over control to Will seemed to help the other man find his voice, be more assertive. Mike didn’t mind in the slightest. It helped him learn how to relax, step out of his own comfort zone and go with the flow more readily rather than fighting the current. Plus, helping Will be more assertive in the bedroom even translated to his life outside of it and Mike was grateful for that. Will was more willing to state his opinion on things. He didn’t seem to feel like he had to bend to what everyone around him wanted anymore. He even offered his opinions to Steve and Robin when they spoke about the second location. 

When Mike stopped by the parlor after work to visit Will, he was surprised to find the other man missing. Erica greeted him in a half mumble, still not especially friendly but used to Mike hanging around by now. Mike set the sunflowers he’d bought on the counter and Erica rolled her eyes. 

“You’re really starting to ruin the vibe around here,” she commented, tapping her pen against the desk. 

“Don’t be that way, Erica,” he laughed, extracting a flower and handing it to her. “You love it.”

Erica rolled her eyes again but accepted the plant, tucking it behind her ear and into her hair. The bloom was big, spreading past her thick faux locs towards her eye and Mike grinned to himself to see her smile despite her best efforts. 

“You know, you were always the least obnoxious of my brothers friends,” she said, tapping her pen again. 

It was the closest thing to a complement she’d ever given Mike and he smiled wider. 

“Well thanks Erica. You were always the least obnoxious of my friends’ little sisters.”

She scrunched her nose at that. 

“I’m the only sister your friends have.”

“I know.”

Erica threw the pen at Mike, striking him in the chest before it bounced harmlessly to the ground. Mike laughed and handed the utensil back before asking about the reason he was there. 

“Oh, Will and Steve are out. I dunno where, they left this morning,” she replied, apparently uninterested in the comings and goings of anyone other than Robin. 

Mike felt a little disappointed and confused. Will hadn’t said anything about going out and he hadn’t texted. Mike chewed his lip. 

“Oh, okay. Well will you ask him to text me when he gets back?”

“Ask him yourself, Romeo. I’m not your personal assistant.”

Erica noticed the hurt look on Mike’s face and softened, just a little. 

“Hey, I’ll mention you were here. When are you gonna tell Lucas about you and Will, by the way? I almost spilled the beans at last Sunday’s dinner. Aren’t you a little old to be keeping secrets like a teenager?”

Mike hesitated. 

“You calling me old, Fetus?”

“Did I stutter?”

Mike forced a laugh again, successfully dodging the question. He wasn’t actively avoiding telling Lucas about Will (or himself), it just hadn’t come up organically. After he’d told Dustin, neither had really mentioned it again and Dustin hadn’t gone around spreading the information. He’d tell Lucas soon. He just needed to find a way to bring it up in a way that didn’t feel like some kind of confession. 

“Well, if you see Will just let him know I stopped by, okay?”

“You got it,” Erica agreed, giving him a salute and turning her attention back to the computer. 

Mike left, feeling a little dejected and upset that Will hadn’t mentioned going out with Steve when they ate that morning. Mike thought about texting Will, checking in with him, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to be a pest, Will was his own person and didn’t need to tell Mike every little thing he did. Still, Mike had been hoping to take Will out for a quick meal and maybe to the comic shop to pick up a mini or two for the upcoming campaign on Will’s dinner break. Mike supposed he could do it himself, pick his own mini, but he couldn’t paint. Mike didn’t even have the supplies to make an attempt with. 

Mike headed over, still disappointed but determined to make the best of his day. He was able to find an Elf cleric pretty easily and picked it up for Will. Finding a Goliath paladin was more of a challenge but Zoe was leaving the shop for the day and offered to check the back for Mike. When she returned, mini in hand, Mike had been so grateful that he’d invited her along for a drink and something to eat. Zoe had accepted and it was actually kind of nice to hang out with her. Mike sipped his beer and listened to her talk, pushing down his growing feelings of jealousy and displeasure that tried to grow with every minute Will didn’t contact him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so quarantine and my work getting ready to reopen at full capacity has got me really fucked up. I am having a major depressive episode and it's coming out pretty hard in my writing so I apologize for that but I hope you're still enjoying the story anyway. I'm worried because I've been working the entire time but now that we are about to open at full capacity, our new GM is bringing in some of his favorite employees (who have had all this time off) and as much as I love them, I do NOT want to lose my money shifts to people who haven't been around and struggling these past two months. I'm having trouble making ends meet as it is and I did not spend the last two months risking my health and making a third of what I used to make to lose my hard earned bar shifts to people who haven't been here at all for this crisis. 
> 
> I'm also a little concerned because my closest friend and coworker (our senior bartender, she trained me and she is my work mom I love her so much) has been really really sick but couldn't get tested because we have a shortage of tests here. She and I have worked in close proximity for weeks now and I'm pretty stressed about this. I'll keep you all updated if I get sick. Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. Did I mention I don't have health insurance? Cause I don't. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea when the next chapter will be posted because I literally hate everything I write right now, but your kind words and comments mean the world to me. I'm working on it right now but I think I'm less than 500 words in because I keep scrapping it and starting over. Please have patience I swear I'm trying my best. Sorry for venting here, I just don't have a lot of people to talk to right now. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. Take care of yourselves and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Signals are misinterpreted. Mike comes up with a way to silence his insecurities and prove some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: over the clothes sexual contact

The feelings of insecurity (and jealousy) quickly faded when Will texted him back and even though the thought of not replying immediately, as punishment for making Mike wait all day for a response had crossed his mind he dismissed it as petty and childish. Will was allowed to go out with his friends, he didn’t have to check in with Mike every minute of every day about every little thing he did. Will was an adult with a life outside of his dating and romantic life, he didn’t owe Mike a call or a text every time he had to run a work errand.

When the two inevitably made it to the bedroom that night and fell into each other’s arms, Will seemed like he’d been pent up all day, just waiting for night to fall.

Mike lay next to his sleeping lover, listening to the sounds of him breathing in the dark. Will smelled like his usual cologne, his soap, the chemicals and ink he worked around all day, and under that, faintly of pot. Mike had never seen Will indulge, but Steve certainly did. It wasn’t unusual that if Will had spent hours in close proximity to him that day that some of the scent would linger. Mike really didn’t want uncomfortable, unwelcome thoughts parading through his mind but right now but… they came unbidden anyway, despite his efforts to push them aside. 

Will always spoke highly of Steve. After everything Harrington had done for him, it wasn’t surprising but… What if Will’s feelings weren’t totally platonic? Will had already gotten wrapped up with an older guy that had filled the provider role once. What if he projected some of those same, safe, affectionate feelings onto an actual, decent person instead of an abusive one? Steve had housed him, _twice_ , protected him from an abuser even at physical cost to himself and provided Will a livelihood. Fuck, Steve had even spent thousands of dollars to renovate a living space for Will, to ensure he’d be safe and out of harm’s way. That was more than above and beyond what the average person would do, that was damn near interstellar. Wouldn’t it be normal for Will to have developed _some kind_ of feelings for him?

And Steve was a good looking guy, there was no dancing around that. He was tall, almost a height with Mike, well defined features and an easy, natural smile. Hadn’t Will seemed… more enthusiastic than usual during their intimacy, after spending the day with Steve? The shorter man had been needy, so giving. Not that he wasn’t anyway, but (and maybe this was just Mike’s imagination) Will had practically vibrated with energy, making more sounds and encouragement than were typical of him. Mike hated the thought, but what if Mike was just Will’s second choice, the runner up? Mike had been the one to pursue Will, to initiate the relationship, crossing that line from friends to lovers. Was Will just settling for who was available, for what he could get? Was Will so pent up from being around the actual object of his desires and it translated into his intimacy with Mike?

Cause as far as Mike knew, Steve was unattainable. To the medical student’s knowledge, Steve wasn’t interested in other men. But… Mike hadn't been interested in other men either, at least not in a conscious way he’d acknowledge until he’d fully realized his attraction to Will. Could they have had a past (or future) relationship of some kind that went beyond employee and boss, beyond friendship? Was Steve who Will was really interested in? Was Mike just a stand in for something the artist couldn’t have?

Mike had never had the urge to snoop through Will’s personal belongings before (his phone, his laptop), and he wasn’t about to let that uncomfortable, uneasy feeling push him to do so now, no matter how instantly those internal voices urged him to. 

He sighed, throwing his arm over his eyes and tried to quiet his racing thoughts. 

**

Mike hated how insecure he felt and by the third time Will blocked off a section of his appointment times to spend the day with Steve, Mike was feeling _really_ insecure. Will had explained that it was in preparation for the second location. They had to purchase equipment, necessary tools and things of that nature. Steve and Robin wanted Will to be a part of it, they appreciated his thoughts and opinions and wasn’t it great? 

Robin couldn’t take the time off, she had to train Erica and do the tattoos while Will was away. Will couldn’t go alone because he didn’t have a car and Robin didn’t trust Steve’s decision making skills (and with some of the questionable tattoos the man had, Mike didn’t blame her). For the most part, Steve was happy to take Will around as Robin’s shopping surrogate and Will was excited to be included. The artist’s disappointment last week at one excursion being cancelled because Steve was unavailable to take him and Will couldn’t take himself had clouded the artists disposition for the rest of the day. 

It wasn’t like they were going out every day or anything, just once or twice a week for the time being. Today, they were looking at lightly used second hand equipment and Will was coming along to test it, check that it worked properly and was in good condition. Will had practically bounded out the door that morning, so excited and full of energy and a quick kiss goodbye was the most Mike had gotten, not even sharing a cup of coffee with his lover. 

Mike was proud of Will, that he was experienced enough to know and assertive enough to state his opinion on subjects that would affect Robin and Steve’s business. Mike was proud of Will and of the fact that they trusted the artist enough to accept his opinions as gospel. Mike was happy for Will, he really was. He just wished that gnawing, relentless insecurity would stop. 

“Mike? Can you help me reach the twenty four ounce cups? I can’t seem to get them,” Zoe asked, rousing Mike from his wandering thoughts. 

“Oh, yeah sure. I’ve got it,” he mumbled, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. 

Mike slipped past the red head and moved to the back of the store, towards dry stock. It was after closing, he and Zoe had been the last ones on shift for the night so it was up to them to make sure everything was prepped and stocked for the next day. Mike didn’t much like closing (or opening for that matter, give him a nice second shift any day) but he was one of the only people with both a store key and lock combination for the safe so it was what it was. Mike paused, glancing around the small storage room, trying to remind himself where the cups had ended up this time. There was never any method to the madness and it was up to whoever was on shift when the truck order arrived to put it all away, so it was rare that items would end up in the same spot twice. The room was only maybe ten by twelve feet in space, big enough to store things but not enough for two people to comfortably move around. It wasn’t difficult to find the box of cups, high on the top shelf and well out of reach of his tiny coworker.

Mike reached up, having to stand on his own toes to comfortably reach into the box to extract the cups. He really didn’t understand why the broken step stool hadn’t just been replaced already. As it was, half the staff couldn’t reach the top shelves unassisted and even though El would spider monkey her way up to get what she needed, it wasn’t ideal. 

Mike pulled four sleeves of the cups from the box, catching them as they fell. He re-balanced them and headed back to the main area where Zoe was finishing wiping up and disinfecting the counters. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking the cups from the tall man, brushing his arm with her fingers as she did. “Appreciate the help.”

“It’s not a problem, honestly. Do you mind sticking around for a bit once you’re done? I have to have someone else in the building while doing the drawer and a safe drop. Store policy,” he explained since it was Zoe’s first time closing. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can hang with you awhile,” she said with a bright smile. 

Mike nodded, appreciating her willingness to stay late. He knew it was annoying when you had finished a shift and just wanted to go home and poor Zoe had _two_ jobs, this couldn’t be how she wanted to spend her time. Mike pulled out his key and extracted the drawer, pulling it low against his stomach and headed back to the office. His blue tooth speaker was still playing the 80’s greatest hits collection he’d set it too at the start of his shift and Mike sat, preparing to work. He counted the drawer, dividing the tips equally between everyone who’d worked that day, putting the cash into envelopes with their names on them before setting them in the safe. Since Zoe was still in the building, he left her envelope out and on the desk so he could give it to her once he was done. 

A knock on the door caught his attention and Mike leaned over, pushing the swivel chair towards the door to open it so Zoe could pop her head in. She pushed a strand of short, straight hair behind her ear as she glanced inside. 

“Hey, is it okay if I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, pushing the swivel chair back to make room for his coworker to enter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just finished up and was feeling a little lonely,” she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. 

Mike turned back to the desk and started typing in the totals for the day; credit slips, cash sales, gift cards. It wouldn’t take much longer and he tried to rush, feeling guilty for being the cause of the holdup that kept Zoe there late. For her part, the redheaded woman moved around the small space of the office (even smaller than dry stock, maybe half the size really), looking at the various notes left around about purchasing, orders that needed placed, requests for time off, and certificates of operation. Mike dropped the rest of the cash in the safe and turned the chair to face his coworker, the envelope meant for her in hand. 

“Alright, all set,” he said, holding the envelope out. 

Zoe took it, tucked it into her purse and smiled. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Thanks for hanging around while I finished up.”

Mike pushed the chair back to give Zoe space and rose to start to stand. He was taken off guard when the redhead stepped forward, encroaching on his space even as he moved to give her some of her own. She kissed him as he stood, surprising the man and making him back up into the chair, bumping the hinge of his knees against it and falling back into place, breaking the contact. Zoe followed, bending to kiss him again, the mound of her breasts spilling from the top of her shirt and giving Mike an eyeful as she slipped her tongue past his lips and into his gaping, startled mouth. 

Her lips were soft and wet from her lip gloss, her tongue gentle with it’s prodding, trying to get Mike to open for her. His cock twitched in interest, trying to see what was going on here and if it would be needed. Mike raised his hands and pressed against her shoulders, trying to urge her back and away from him. She was soft, yielding to his touch, and warm. Zoe had nice curves and she was pretty and bubbly and fun and Mike could smell her floral body spray as she moved closer to him. She was easy to talk to and interested in what he had to say and she _wasn’t Will._

Mike pressed on her shoulders lightly as he pulled away, leaning back into the chair. 

“Hey, whoa, what are you doing?” he asked, a little breathier than he liked. 

Zoe blinked down at him, blushing.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for a while now. I figured you were just too shy so why not… um… take the reins myself?”

“Oh, uh, what?” he asked, confused. 

“You’ve been flirting with me for weeks. Max told me you weren’t seeing anyone and you know, after what happened with El and all… I kinda figured you were too nervous to make a move. I promise, I am very, _very_ into guys.”

Mike grimaced, dropping his hands from her shoulders. 

“Oh uh, see that’s the thing… I _am_ seeing someone.”

Zoe frowned, blushing harder. 

“Why would Max lie about that?”

“I don’t think she thought she was lying. It’s not like I talk to her about it,” Mike explained. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back further into the chair, trying to put some space between them. Zoe shifted, embarrassed. 

“Oh uh, I’m sorry. I just… how happy can you be if you’ve been flirting with me for weeks and you never talk about your girlfriend. I didn’t even know she existed, so I’m a little confused here,” she said, face burning red but not really moving away from Mike. 

Mike raised his hands and furrowed his brow. 

“I’m sorry if you thought I’d been sending you signals. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve been buying me food and inviting me out to get drinks and dinner… I mean, are you sure? Cause that seems like a green flag for the go ahead, you know?” she said, finally taking a step away, embarrassed. 

“I was being friendly,” he said, defensive and weak, feeling a little trapped in his chair in the small space of the office with his traitorous dick still twitching with interest. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“If you have a girlfriend, why don’t you ever talk about her?” Zoe questioned, averting her eyes. “Cause if it’s just that you’re not interested, you don’t have to lie. I get it, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. If I knew you had someone, I wouldn’t have thrown myself at you,” she explained, still flushed red.

“I talk about them. They’re just kind of a private person,” Mike insisted, emotions swirling as his cheeks burned, mirroring her’s. 

He felt defensive, his hackles raised a little. He also felt guilty at having rejected Zoe and making her feel unsuitable for his affections in some way. Zoe was pretty, _really_ pretty. She had a great figure, nice wide hips and full breasts, a gentle roll to her belly and her ass jiggled when she walked. Zoe had great lips, always painted pale pink and cute freckles across her nose and cheeks and she could down a beer like no one’s business. She was wholesome, like the girl next door; free of piercings and tattoos and had naturally tanned skin, not the salon bought kind and freckles for days. Honestly, if Mike wasn’t already involved with someone, she was exactly the type he might have been interested in. 

“I just, I never heard you talk about a girlfriend and no one here mentioned it either,” Zoe pointed out, still blushing red. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry we got our signals crossed,” Mike said awkwardly, still waiting for her to step back so he could get up without being in such close proximity to her.

Zoe finally stepped away and Mike took a breath.

“I can walk you to your car,” he offered, still feeling weird about the whole encounter. 

“It’s fine,” Zoe laughed. “Stop being so nice, cause that’s what I meant about you flirting. That’s kind of why I thought you were into me,” she said, turning away.

Mike watched her go, an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. He hadn’t meant to be flirtatious, not intentionally, but was that what he’d been doing? After all, Zoe was pretty and she paid attention to him and she was a woman, the type he’d typically go after. Mike hadn’t thought he’d been hiding Will, had justified it by trying to take Will’s privacy into account but… It was definitely time to talk about it. It was time to tell people about Will (and himself). 

When Mike left, he headed home instead of going to Will’s. He texted Lucas, asking if he was still awake. Dustin already knew, it was time to tell his other best friend the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (so help him god). 

**

Will was seated at his bedroom desk, drawing some kind of underwater scene or another from the looks of it. He was using a lot of blues and greens, shifting between the colored pencils like he couldn’t decide what the exact shade he was looking for was. Mike watched him from his reclined position on the bed where he’d been reading news articles on his phone. Will pulled his hand back, frowning at his work and picked up an eraser, trying to mend whatever it was he thought was wrong with the piece before settling into a different position, curling his legs under himself so he was sitting cross legged on the leather chair. 

Will wore a pair of boxers and one of Mike’s t-shirts (a little oversized on his small frame). He looked like a kid playing dress up but at least Will was wearing clothes appropriate for the weather. His bare legs and arms were scarred but fading, the wounds that Mike had stitched up were healing and raised, still rough and deep red as the tissue tried to mend. Mike had taken to rubbing vitamin e oil on Will’s body at night. He didn’t know if it would help the scars but it made Will feel better so every day after they showered, the oil came out and Mike worked it into Will’s damaged skin. It was a convenient excuse to touch Will all over and it was becoming almost a part of their foreplay.

After a moment of watching him, Mike stood, stretching out and went to look at what it was Will was drawing. The taller man peered over the seated artist's shoulder to see, examining the scene. It was a sailor, under the water and in the arms of a merman who looked like it was kissing him or no, that wasn’t right, breathing for him?

“It’s nice,” he commented, watching Will add detail to the scales. 

“Ha, thanks. It’s dumb,” Will said, lowering his pencil, apparently self conscious about his work. 

“No it’s not, it’s really great. Is it for anyone in particular? A client?”

“No, just something for fun,” Will explained, still not picking his pencil back up. 

He really didn’t seem to want to draw with Mike watching, so the man stepped back a little, giving Will space. 

“So what’s it mean? Is there a story behind it?” Mike asked, recalling Will’s books on world mythology. 

“Oh um, well, typically mermaids and sirens were considered bad luck or bad omens and kind of reviled. So… I just wanted to show one helping someone instead of dragging them to their death,” he explained, glancing over his shoulder at Mike. “You know, to show that not all ‘unnatural’ things are evil or something to be afraid of.”

“Which one are you?” Mike asked, kissing the base of Will’s neck, where it met his shoulders.

Will chuckled and leaned back into the touch.

“Probably the sailor. I’m not some mysterious creature lurking the depths waiting for someone to rescue,” he murmured, tilting his head to the side to give Mike more room to kiss his neck. 

Mike made a noise of disagreement and grazed his lips over the shell of Will’s ear. 

_Aren’t you?_

Will raised a hand, tangling his fingers in Mike’s long curls, carding through them. Mike leaned into the touch, enjoying it. If he had been a cat, Mike would have purred in contentment. He kissed Will again, nuzzling against his stubble. 

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you. How would you feel about staying the night at my place some time? You could meet my roommate, properly I mean. I could invite some friends, they could get to know you…” Mike trailed off, waiting for a response. 

Will tensed up a little, hand still stroking through Mike’s overly long curls. 

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re okay with that?” the artist asked. 

Mike paused, unsure why Will would even ask that. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, it’s been months and you haven’t introduced me to anyone. You’re friends just know me as a customer or the guy who did your tattoo. I kind of thought you didn’t want them to know about me… That um, you didn’t want to tell them about us.”

Mike hesitated. Had he been hurting Will’s feelings and not knowing it? Did Will think that Mike was a straight guy who was just, what, killing time until some girl could come along and fill the void? Mike swallowed, thinking about Zoe and the kiss and the way his body had responded to her. He hadn’t told Will about it. Was that the kind of thing Will worried about, the way Mike worried about Steve? Mike had never meant to make Will feel like he was hidden, some dirty little secret but… Maybe he had made the other man feel that way, the same way he’d made Zoe think he’d been flirting. An accident, never, _never_ intentional. 

Mike had been trying to find a way to tell Will about the incident, about the kiss. He felt even more unsure now than he had before. Robin had told Mike that Zach had fucked around on Will any chance he got. So far, Will had never mentioned any doubts as far as Mike’s loyalty but... If Will thought Mike was just a straight guy and that the first girl who came along could replace him, Mike didn’t want Will to feel the insecure, uncomfortable things that Mike felt. Honestly, the assumption that Mike was just faking it, the attraction he felt towards Will, might not be any more irrational than Mike’s worries about Steve. It might even make sense if the sexual aspect of their relationship had been one sided but Mike had been pretty enthusiastically sucking Will’s dick for the last few months. Mike didn’t know any ‘straight’ guys that got hard thinking about blowing another man, about fucking one. Wasn’t that proof enough?

Maybe it wasn’t. He and Will had never… switched things up. Was that something guys did? Was it something Will _wanted_ to do? Mike had never asked him and Will had never brought it up. Mike had thought about it, sure. He’d even fingered himself while wondering what it might be like but Will had never tried, hadn’t even attempted to touch Mike there other than when he was giving him oral sex. Mike flushed red. 

“I’m sure. I told Dustin about you a while ago and talked to Lucas about it last night. They both want to meet you, get to know you. Is that okay?”

Will seemed to relax a little at that. 

“Yeah, absolutely. I wanna meet your friends,” he breathed, smiling as Mike went back to work kissing his neck and shoulders. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Mike whispered, pausing the kisses again. 

“You just did,” Will chided playfully, leaning back into the touch and encouraging it to continue. 

“Are you happy?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” Will said, apparently surprised by the question. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just… Are you sure? Are you… satisfied?” Mike asked, rubbing against the back of Will’s chair, running a hand across the smaller man’s chest, thumbing one of his nipples through the fabric, playing with the piercing. 

Will shuddered, enjoying the feeling as his eyes drifted closed. 

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Mike blurted out, wondering if he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t just hurry up and ask. 

Will laughed, pressing into the touch of the hand on his chest. 

“All the time.”

Mike shook his head, still thumbing the hardening nub. 

“No I mean… do you want to… _you_ fuck _me_?” Mike breathed into the seated man’s ear. 

Will jerked a little at that, let out an audible sound and leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes more tightly closed. 

Okay, that seemed like a pretty definitive ‘yes’. Mike pressed his nose to Will’s hair and inhaled. So, Will hadn’t been as assertive as Mike had thought, as he’d been pretending to be. Will still had unvoiced thoughts and desires he’d left unexpressed, hidden and tucked away. It made Mike excited (and nervous). If Will was worried that Mike was secretly straight, taking it in the ass could be a way to prove decisively that he wasn’t. (And if Will was getting bored, if he was thinking about someone else, someone with big hair and a bigger smile, this might be Mike’s chance to capture all of Will’s attention and affection) Mike pressed against the chair, letting his free hand slip around Will’s neck, holding him loosely beneath the jaw so he could tilt the other man’s face back further while he kept playing with Will’s hardened nipple. 

“Do you want to?” Mike whispered against Will’s ear, drawing another sound from the artist that vibrated against the hand Mike held to his throat. “I want you to,” he finished, nuzzling against Will’s stubble again. 

It wasn’t a lie. Mike _did_ want Will to do that, to be the one to do that with Mike. If Mike was taking that dive, if he was going to take a cock in the ass to prove how _not straight_ he was, to prove that he was indeed in this all the way, he wanted it to be Will who took him there. Mike was so attracted to Will, he loved him and trusted him to handle a situation like this with care and consideration, making sure Mike’s first time would be enjoyable. 

Will twitched and leaned back further, tilting his head so far he faced the ceiling. His eyes were closed and Mike took an unsteady breath as Will swallowed and his adams apple bobbed under Mike’s palm. Will took an uneven breath and slowly exhaled through his nose, the little puff of air ruffling Mike’s hair. 

“Um, I don’t…” Will hesitated, searching for the words. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that.”

Mike faltered, getting the uncomfortable feeling that Will had been reading his thoughts. 

“I don’t, it’s not like that,” Mike assured him, nuzzling against his small lover, still playing with him over his borrowed shirt to show his eagerness. 

Will twitched again and Mike could see that Will was already tenting his boxers. It was Mike’s turn to swallow, a little intimidated by the sight. He’d held Will hard and bare in his hand, his mouth. Will might be petite but he wasn’t _small_ , not in that way. When Mike had fingered himself he’d only managed two digits and even that had felt like a lot. Will was considerably larger than that. 

Mike choked down his unease and kissed Will’s neck again, determined to silence his insecurities and win all of Will’s affections. He trailed his teeth across Will’s throat, doing his best to exude confidence despite his gnawing doubts. Will hummed and hissed when the medical student’s hand drifted lower, moving from Will’s chest to his half hard cock. Will ground his teeth and pressed into the touch. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Mike said again, making a show of palming Will through the thin and dampening material that covered his erection. 

Will bucked up into the touch and let out a tight groan, opening his light brown eyes to meet Mike’s dark ones. Another gentle squeeze was all the encouragement Will needed before he was rolling his hips up and into Mike’s hand. 

“Then get on the bed,” the artist croaked, pupils wide, already blown with desire and anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, I know that this chapter took forever to post and that it's shorter than I'd like, I've just been struggling to get this typed because I'm back at work full time. Honestly, the chapter had to be broken into two parts and I'm gonna work on getting the second part typed soon. If I hadn't broken it up into two parts it would have been massive and had too many elements blending together. So the second half of this chapter (the next one I'll post) is going to have a lot of content warnings and some pretty graphic material. We've gotta get through some rough stuff before I veer us back into fluff territory and closer to the end of the story. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. Take care of yourselves out there, be safe and be well.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will try something new in the bedroom. Mike tries to relax before returning to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic sexual and violent content. Graphic and homophobic language. This chapter is not appropriate for minors. Like, at all.

That look, the way Will watched and examined Mike as he lay himself spread on the bed, was an intense one. Mike had always loved Will’s big, doe eyes; how serene and placid they were (frozen pools of amber). Right now, they made Mike’s stomach coil, his body tense as they focused in, watching Mike disrobe and present himself. Mike closed his own, having difficulty maintaining eye contact when Will was looking at him like that, like he was going to devour the taller man. Mike tried his best to relax, to let his muscles loosen as Will kissed and touched him. He forced his body to be still (no nervous shakes, just be calm), he begged his pounding heart to be quiet as it thumped unsteadily in his chest.

Will worked him gently, coaxed Mike’s legs open so he could touch him there, the place he’d only ever touched himself. The first finger was uncomfortable but not difficult to handle. It was more of a psychological difficulty anyway. Nothing Mike couldn’t ignore. Will moved slowly, letting Mike get used to the feeling. He used plenty of lube, worked at a steady, gentle pace, trying his best to relax his lover (exactly the way Mike had thought he would). Will kissed and licked Mike, coaxing him to full mast in Will’s mouth while he worked Mike from inside. It was nice, having that distraction of Will’s mouth on him, to have something to focus on rather than the nervousness he felt. Despite his best efforts, by the time the third finger was in and after Will had helped him flip onto his stomach, his knees and elbows supporting him, Mike still wasn’t sure he could handle the rest of Will. 

To Mike’s embarrassment, his teeth were actually starting to chatter from the adrenaline and anxiety of what was happening, what was _going_ to happen. 

Mike felt Will’s hand withdraw and he glanced over his shoulder to see that Will had taken himself in hand and was coating his bare cock with lube, preparing himself to line up with Mike’s body. The thick ring on Will’s cockhead was glistening and wet, flashing like the muzzle of a rifle, reflecting the light. Mike looked away, trying to stop the ever increasing chattering of his teeth and the way his fingers curled into fists in preparation for what Mike was sure would be some of the worst discomfort (maybe even pain) that he’d endured up to this point. 

Will was too big, or Mike was too small, still unprepared despite Will’s gentle touches and careful ministrations. 

Mike opened his mouth to speak, to ask Will to stop, just hold on a minute, but the words died before they were spoken. All those times Will had tried to give him a way out, to put on the breaks and Mike hadn’t taken them. Even if Will had asked, had offered a reprieve, Mike knew he wouldn’t have accepted, he knew he wouldn’t have. If he’d really wanted a way out, the words wouldn’t have died on his tongue moments before. He _wanted_ to do this, to let Will have this. Mike wanted to give Will all the things he wanted and desired, even if they were uncomfortable or hurt. Mike refused to flinch and willed his nerves to be calm when he felt the artist touch his thigh, ease it’s way up his flank. 

“Are you okay?” Will asked, feeling the tension Mike had done his best to mask. 

“I’m fine,” Mike assured the other man, bowing his head and resting it against his curled fists, forcing himself to be calm and still. 

“You don’t look fine…” Will said, still stroking up and down Mike’s side gently, questioning. 

The dark haired man shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. 

“Just uh, you know, first time jitters,” he replied, choking down another nervous giggle. 

Will kept stroking down Mike’s sides, using both hands now, lingering on the taller man’s hips. 

“Hey, if you want to stop-”

“-I don’t. C’mon Will, it’s okay. I want you to,” Mike insisted, wiggling his hips a little to show enthusiasm and tried to prepare himself. 

Will leaned forward, draping his form over Mike’s back, pressing his hips and chest against the taller man, using one hand to brace himself up. He raised his other hand from it’s place on Mike’s flank to curl it around Mike’s throat and jaw, a mirror of what Mike had done to him earlier. The curly haired man leaned into the touch, letting himself be directed by it to turn his face over his shoulder so Will could kiss him softly. 

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” Will said, his lips brushing Mike’s temple, his mouth. “It’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” Mike whispered in return, twisting into the hand around his jaw to kiss Will’s palm as he leaned back into Will’s hips and cock, pressing firmly against him. 

He felt Will shudder, could tell he was holding back. Mike arched a little, dipping his upper body as he raised the rest of himself higher. This was fine, everything was okay. He wanted this and he wanted Will to be happy and satisfied. Mike could do this, he could endure it. It was fine. Mike closed his eyes and waited. 

Will raised himself up, pushed Mike’s curls away from his neck and kissed him softly on the spine, right beneath Mike’s skull. 

“You are so beautiful,” Will whispered, kissing beneath the curls again as he ran a hand down Mike’s back, towards his ass and thighs. 

Mike let out a small sound (was it a whimper? A moan?). No one had ever told him he was beautiful before. Will was always affectionate and loving but rarely vocalized it, his affection. Even the word “I love you” were rare from him (but Mike could tell he did. It was the little things, the way Will played with his hair and curled close at night that let him know). Mike had always been the one to say things, to whisper pet names and praise while Will was more comfortable with physicality and kind gestures. Hearing Will tell Mike he was _beautiful_ was a lot. Mike made that small sound again and finally relaxed, just a little. 

“I’m ready.”

“Take a breath, I’ve got you,” Will said, kissing Mike between the shoulders as he took himself in hand again. 

That first, gentle push was intense, painful, and Mike squirmed, clenching and unclenching his fists while he struggled to control his breathing. Will had one hand on Mike’s hip, thumbing over the dip of his bone and the other rubbing circles low on his back, over the base of his spine. He was trying to relax the taller man while whispering quiet things, things like ‘breathe’, ‘it’s okay,’ ‘relax’, ‘I’ve got you’, and ‘tell me when you’re comfortable.’

Mike nodded, head bent low again, resting on his clenched fists. He struggled to concentrate on the feeling of Will’s hands on his back, his hips, his thighs pressed flush against Will’s rather than the uncomfortable, throbbing fullness in his body. Mike was shaking a little, adrenaline making him both strong and weak all at once. Will moved his hand from Mike’s hip to his hair, stroking the dark curls, massaging his scalp in a way that always calmed and soothed the other man. Mike let out a low sound, getting lost in that feeling instead of the heat and pressure in his ass. Will moved in a slow, gentle motion, dragging himself out carefully before returning to sheath himself completely in Mike’s body. 

Mike groaned at the feeling, tried to stay grounded as Will moved. He was tight, too tight, and it hurt. Fuck. Was this what he’d been doing to Will all those times? And Mike hadn’t always moved slowly the way Will was, hadn’t always been gentle. He felt a wave of anxiety and regret. Those times he’d moved fast, been rough, had _tried_ to make it more intense… Fuck, that had to have hurt, much more than the ache Mike felt now. How could Will possibly like this? How could Mike have _thought_ Will liked this? Mike squeezed his eyes closed and waited for it to be over. 

When Will withdrew and angled his hips down, thrusting shallowly, something happened. The ring on his cockhead pressed and dragged against something nestled in Mike’d body and the tall man shuddered, letting out a low, throaty sound of surprise. Oh. Oh wow. What the fuck was that? Will tilted his hips again, moved in deliberate motions when he heard Mike make that noise. The artist found the cluster of nerves again as he thrust and Mike fought not to shout at the feeling it caused. 

Mike bowed his head low, arching his back as his mouth went slack, the rest of his muscles finally loosening to accommodate this new, unexpected feeling. As Mike let the tension go, Will continued to stroke his hair, whisper quiet and pretty things to his lover. The hand on Mike’s back kept tracing patterns, making invisible art, mimicking the feeling of when Will had used his brush and dragged paint over the span of Mike’s back, building that field of flowers. Will continued to pet Mike gently as he moved, soothing the tall man and drawing gooseflesh to the surface of his skin. Will had done a better job of preparing him than Mike had given him credit for. Once the tension he carried melted away, his body loosened to let the artist thrust and stroke that hidden spot over and over. 

Mike hadn’t realized it, but he’d started talking. A long string of curses and things almost too close to a beg, a plea for Will not to stop, to keep going. Even Mike’s dick (which had wilted from the initial discomfort and pain) was alert now, slapping against his stomach as Will moved inside him, forcing Mike’s body to move in time. 

Mike had never really felt small, not since he was a kid. Once he hit a growth spurt in elementary school, he’d always had a height advantage over people his own age (even if his physique was still on the slimmer side). Now, hunched around himself, Will leaning over him, draping across Mike’s body like a human blanket while he whispered and cooed gently in Mike’s ear, making Mike’s whole body move with the force of his gentle thrusts, while Mike was totally and completely submissive to this, to getting _fucked in the ass_ , Mike felt small. 

Not in a derogatory sense (not that at all), but small in another way. Vulnerable maybe? Like he didn’t have to be so… macho? It was difficult to describe. It felt like every societal pressure that had ever been thrust upon him, even in childhood, every expectation as to what a man _should_ be was being stomped out beneath his lover’s gentle touches. 

**’Boys don’t cry. Hold the door. Be assertive. Be the alpha. Don’t talk about your feelings. What are you, a fag? Be aggressive and cold. Don’t show weakness. Tough it out. Stop acting like a girl. Boys will be boys. Walk it off. Be a _man._ ’**

All those things were being stripped away leaving Mike raw and naked and small and submissive in his lover’s embrace. He almost wept at the feeling, the loss of control. Mike was off balance and teetering and he was falling, not knowing if he’d strike the ground and split upon it like an overripe melon. It was frightening, but there was freedom there too. It was so, _so_ freeing to have that feeling of handing over the reigns, of letting himself be led, guided, held, and fucked. He didn’t need to pretend, to put on a farce. Not here, not in the privacy of Will’s room, not with the other man holding him and whispering and petting his skin while he moved inside of Mike. This was the freedom of falling and not caring at all, because this was _so much_ and it was _so good_ and Mike didn’t want it to stop. 

Mike whined, pressing his forehead against the mattress, helpless and overwrought with pleasure and raw, primal need. Will slid his hand from Mike’s hair to his shoulder, gripping the taller man to balance himself while he found his pace. Mike’s cock ached, he was leaking with desire and pleasure and he wanted more. He pressed himself back into Will, into his even, controlled thrusts and let the noises slip past his lips as he tried to project his thoughts and desires directly into Will’s mind without forming the actual words. 

_Please. Please. Please. Oh, fuck, please fuck me. Please don’t stop. Please just fuck me._

But Will didn’t, not the way Mike wanted him to, not at first. Will was careful, concerning himself with staying shallow and slow enough to stroke over the walnut sized cluster of nerves that set Mike ablaze and pooled like lava in the base of his spine. Pressed into the mattress, balancing on his forearms and elbows while Will gripped his shoulders, Mike’s dick was untouched and he didn’t care. All he cared about was that feeling growing in his body, radiating from his prostate. He was leaking heavily and making helpless, whining, high sounds that he didn’t even know he _could_ make. 

Will increased his speed, just a little, just enough to rock Mike forward and back in a way that made Mike struggle to breathe. Every sound he made was a stutter, cut off mid moan until he sounded like a skipping record. The pressure in Mike’s body didn’t hurt, not exactly. It was more like a sweet sting, causing a mild burn that pulsed every time Will moved and thrust. Mike felt a little shake start in his arms from where he held himself up, growing pleasure making him quiver and he opened his mouth in a pant, desperate to draw air. 

Quite suddenly, Mike was shaking, trembling so hard he almost collapsed. The only thing that kept him from falling totally onto the mattress were his arms and legs pinned beneath him when he went limp. Mike felt his dick pulsing, releasing stream after stream of thin, watery, almost milky… something. Was that ejaculate? Could Mike even cum without touching his cock? He never had before and this didn’t feel like anything he’d ever experienced up until this point. The pleasure wasn’t centralized to his cock, it was all over, _all over_ and it was too much but not enough all at once. 

Mike was still keening, almost sobbing as Will worked him through it, kissing his neck, his shoulders, his spine. 

“Mike? Baby? Did… did you…?” he was asking, placing gentle touches over every inch of skin he could feel. 

Mike shuddered at the pet name (something Will had never given him) and at the unfamiliar feeling that still coursed through this entire body. He was unsure of what had happened and hearing Will call him something so loving, so… feminine, was intense. How had he gone from ‘Mr. Wheeler’ to ‘baby’? Mike gasped, pressing back further onto Will’s own hard, heavy member. 

“I-I-I-...” 

Mike clamped his mouth shut, angry at his stutter and tried again to form the words. 

“I don’t know,” he finally gasped, fighting back tears of pleasure and the shear, overwhelming force of the feelings (both physical and emotional) that he felt. 

Will reached around and finally, _finally_ touched Mike’s limp member, feeling the dampness of his spend and examining it. Mike felt the other man shudder and twitch within him, holding back his movements so as not to overwhelm Mike further. Mike rolled his head, glanced over his shoulder to see Will raising up again, his long delicate fingers back to massaging Mike’s back and the curve of his ass. Will blinked at him when he noticed Mike watching him and tried to withdraw. Mike pushed back, resheathing the other man within his body, making Will hiss. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he breathed, raising his hips again and pushing his chest up off the bed. “I’m okay, Will.”

“Are you sure?” Will asked, tentative but still hard and willing. 

Mike nodded, closing his eyes and willing himself to ask for the thing he wanted. Finally, he just spit it out. 

“Can… can we move though? I want… um… can you...Can you hold me?”

It came out a whisper, barely audible and Mike was ashamed of himself as soon as he asked. 

Men weren’t supposed to ask for things like that. A real man wouldn’t _need_ to be held and coddled (would they?). Will was going to laugh or recoil or reject him in some way for that display of weakness. Mike knew that it was a stupid, hypocritical thought to have. He’d never judged Will for needing to be held or reassured and in fact, Mike loved it. It was just so deeply ingrained in him to not need it (or if he did, to at least not ask for it). When Will drew away, Mike lowered his head, knowing his fears had been right and he’d made a fool of himself. 

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” Will whispered, helping Mike roll onto his back so they could face each other while he realigned himself between Mike’s legs. 

With a gentle touch, soft urging, Will spread Mike beneath him and Mike hooked his long legs around Will’s waist as the artist moved to slide back inside Mike’s body. Will propped himself up with his forearms, so close to Mike that their noses touched. Close enough that Mike could wrap his freckled arms around Will’s shoulders, around his neck and hold him tight and near. Mike watched Will’s face, looking into his honey brown eyes and felt a swell of emotion. Will moved within him, deeper and more fully than he had been while he’d concentrated on driving Mike to his orgasm. After Mike’s release, that full body, toe curling, leg shaking orgasm, he was loose and relaxed, able to take all of his slim lover deep inside him and it didn’t hurt, not even a little. 

When Will was close, instead of letting him pull away, release his spend on Mike’s stomach or off the bed, Mike held the artist firm. Will hesitated. They had stopped using condoms a few weeks ago, once they were secure in their relationship, but Will still seemed concerned by Mike’s grip on him. 

“It’s okay,” Mike assured the other man. “I want you to. I want to feel you come in me.”

Will jerked a little in response to hearing that, letting out a small sound of his own. He was taken off guard but didn’t protest and Mike was glad. Will eased back into a shaking, uneven rhythm and when he released, letting loose shaky pants and sounds, Mike shuddered at the feel of Will pulsing deep inside him, marking him, claiming all of him. Will collapsed onto Mike’s chest, breathing heavily. His slight weight was warm and comforting and solid against Mike. The taller man ran his fingers over Will’s hair, over his face and kissed his sweat soaked brow. 

“I love you.”

The words were barely more than a whisper, like a ghost in his ear, but Mike heard them anyway. He wrapped his arms around Will, around his little love, his small, strong, vibrant friend. Mike felt accepted and _seen_ and totally, blissfully, safe. 

**

Lucas had taken it well, all things considered. A little confused maybe, asking too many personal questions in the days following Mike’s confession. The questions made Mike blush and stutter, but at least Lucas was supportive. Mike answered as honestly as he could, even the personal, sexual questions (so help him god). 

Yes, he and Will were sleeping together. Yes, they had been for a while. No, Mike didn’t think pussy was gross now. Yes, he liked dick and it wasn’t just an experimental thing. 

Lucas didn’t really understand though, and that was okay. Mike hadn’t expected him to. It was enough that Lucas patted him on the shoulder and said ‘I mean, whatever makes you happy.’

The little, growing insecurities had passed for the most part. Any lingering feelings that tried to rear their ugly heads were pushed away quickly thanks to the power of repression. School was starting next week and Mike had put in his two weeks notice shortly after the encounter with Zoe (he hoped she didn’t think it was her fault). He could still pay his share of the rent thanks to the stipend from his parents so that wasn’t an issue. Mike would return to the coffee shop during his breaks in school but there was no way for him to concentrate on his studies while working as much as he did. So for now, he relaxed and enjoyed his break from both work and school. 

The message came out of the blue one day while Mike hung around the townhouse, trying to just chill out and rest while organizing his things for the start of the semester. 

Fucking unknown message request from a fucking unknown sender. Mike almost didn’t open it. 

Almost. 

**Heya Mikey. How you been? Heard the little cockslut was running around with Harrington today. You okay with sharing him? How progressive of you. You sucking Stevie’s dick too? You both taking turns?**

Mike hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t engage in this. He should just block the user and delete the message and move on.

**_Go fuck yourself, Zach._ **

**I’d rather fuck the little bitch. Since you’re sharing, why not send him my way? Been missing having a warm hole to stick my cock in and he’s the best around, don’t you think? Promise I’ll clean him up before I send him back.**

Mike growled, typing quickly.

**_Shut the fuck up you piece of shit. I’m not ‘sharing’ Will and even if I was, you’d be the last person I’d ever let touch him._ **

**Oh really. You’re not letting him run around taking Harrington’s dick whenever that pathetic loser wants to get it wet? That’s not what I heard. I heard you were a cuck and that they were at Steve’s place for hours today. Who knows what they were doing? I personally have my suspicions but hey, I could be wrong.**

**_How the fuck would you know that? You stalking them now?_ **

**I’ve got friends in the same complex where Steve lives. You know, if you really don’t like sharing him, you should put him in his place quick, before the little slut catches something and gets you sick.**

**_Fuck you Zach._ **

**He’s not hard to reign in, just needs a firm hand. Thought I’d done enough to train the obstinance out of that stuck up little cunt but apparently he’s so hungry for cock he forgot his lessons. You’re too soft on him, Mikey.**

**_He’s not a possession or a pet, you asshole. I’m not going to hurt him because I’m not a pathetic, insecure, miserable piece of shit. I don’t care who he hangs out with._ **

Even if it was at Steve’s place. For hours. Alone.

**You should, considering the way he gets around.**

Mike had had enough of this conversation. Zach was just trying to get a rise out of him, to sink his hooks in and tear at any little strands of insecurity he could to unravel and ruin Will’s new relationship. His finger hovered over the ‘block’ button. 

**You like my handiwork?**

**_The fuck do you mean?_ **

**Come on, you’ve seen it. Don’t worry, I did most of the heavy lifting for you. It won’t take much to bring him back to heel.**

Mike was mid sentence, typing furiously when another message popped up. A video attachment. If it was Zach jerking off to memories of hurting Will, Mike would send something disgusting back. Hell, he could probably find a bisected dick or two in the urology textbooks that would do the trick. Maybe one of a circumcision gone terribly, terribly wrong. Mike clicked the message. 

It opened, showing a pretty innocent interior shot of an apartment. It was clean, minimal decorations, and quiet. The camera panned to focus in on a pile or shredded sketchbooks and drawings laid out like a display on an otherwise immaculate coffee table. The camera man directed the lens to a person on the ground, seated on their knees with their hands tucked neatly onto their lap. It was Will and he was looking forlornly at his ruined art. He was that younger, tanner, maybe a little more filled out version with soft cheeks and no piercings and less boney hands that Mike had only seen in photos. Will’s eyes were red but he wasn’t crying as he looked at the remains of what must have been hours upon hours of hard work. 

Will’s hair was rumpled, like he’d been dragged by it to look at the torn books and drawings spread on the table before him and he only wore a pair of cargo shorts. His right arm had open, still healing burns on it and he flinched a little as the camera man shifted and moved to stand behind him, giving an overhead shot of the wreckage. Will’s back was scar free and only decorated with those pretty moles he had, forming a constellation across his skin. Will bowed his head and hunched in on himself, mourning the loss of his work as the camera man began to speak. 

“So where the fuck were you all day?”

Will didn’t immediately speak and a hand lashed out, striking him on the side of the head, making him yelp in surprise more than pain. Will hunched in on himself more. 

“Speak up.”

“I-I was with Steve. We were looking for a distributor for decals…”

“Oh. Okay. Well why didn’t you call? I was worried.”

“I don’t…” Will trailed off.

“I went to the shop and you weren’t there. That bitchy little dyke said you hadn’t been there all day. How long does it take you to buy some fucking decals?”

“I…”

Another slap to the back of the head cut Will off but there were no quiet yelps this time, only a whimper. Mike seethed, wanting to smash his own phone in anger. 

“I’m sorry… Steve wanted to look at a lot of places and he invited me along…”

“Did I tell you you were allowed to go?”

“No but I-”

Will was cut off again by another, almost lazy slap to the head that caught him across the ear, making it turn red. 

“You didn’t spend all day looking for decals. Do you think I’m an idiot? You been fucking him, like you fucked Shane?”

Will jerked, visibly upset by that. More than he had been by the slaps. He glanced over his shoulder to the camera, honey eyes watery now. 

“No! Steve’s not like that! He wouldn’t-”

“Oh, ‘Steve’ wouldn’t, but you would?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Will tried, looking away again. “Mr. Harrington is my boss,” Will corrected himself, reverting back to formalities instead of Steve’s first name. “He asked me to come with him…”

“So he could fuck you? He’s certainly not _paying_ you. Do you even know how much money I’ve spent making sure you have everything you need? Anything you wanted, _I_ bought you. You sketchbooks, you paint, even the fucking clothes on your back. How much are you giving away for free?”

“No! Please. I’m sorry I didn’t call but I-I don’t have a phone! I didn’t know you’d care that I wasn’t at the shop! I didn’t get home late and I rode straight back here after and-”

Will was cut off _again_ by a sharper slap to the head. 

“Rode huh? Funny, cause see, after you weren’t at the shop I waited all day for you to come back. I saw Steve drop you off down the street and saw you walk back next to your bike the rest of the way. What, ass too sore after taking it all day to peddle home? Only riding you did today was Harrington’s _cock_. If you’re going to be gone all day sucking dick, at least try harder with the lies.”

Will was shaking now and he put his hands on the table, framing his work and lowered his head. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be upset. 

“Oh. So you knew going out and sucking Steve’s dick all day would upset me. Cause see, I thought you ‘didn’t know I’d care’. So which is it? Are you a stupid slut or are you just stupid?”

Will leaned forward, clenching his fists on the table. The camera shifted, swinging wildly as the camera man shuffled with something before focusing back on Will. The small brunette was turning away from the table, to face what was happening behind him. Will had a look of confusion and growing concern on his face. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice raising in alarm. 

“I’m so angry with you, Will. I love you and this is what you do? What you make _me_ do?”

The camera swung wildly again and Mike struggled to understand exactly what was happening between the swinging camera and the sounds he heard. From what he could make out, Will was curling away, shrinking back to try and defend himself from an onslaught of blows directed at his head and face. The weapon was a belt and Will was using his hands to shield his head and ears, his elbows and forearms defending his face. Will was hunched over the coffee table, over his ruined work, trying to protect his face from the worst of the blows. Will was crying out and Mike echoed the sound as blows were landing mostly on his arms and shoulders, leaving angry red marks. 

“You stupid fucking slut. You lying piece of shit. I knew you were trash and easy when I met you and had you in bed a week later. Fucking methed out dad and trailer trash mom. Thought I could fix you, give you a better life, and this is how you repay me?”

Will was crying now, still trying to defend himself even as his skin blossomed with red welts. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please stop! I love you, please! I’m sorry!”

“Shut the fuck up and take your punishment like a man. You’re disgusting.”

“I’m sorry!” Will cried out again as another brutal strike landed, drawing blood this time, slashing Will low on the body, across his exposed stomach and hip. 

Will wailed and moved, curling to protect his vital organs against the table while his hands still protected his head and face. Mike wanted to scream, to rage and break things but he was still, frozen in disgust and anger by what he was seeing. 

“Shut. Up.” the cameraman huffed, adding more power to each strike, causing more blood and welts to emerge all over Will’s back, tearing through his skin like it was tissue paper. 

Mike watched in frozen horror, a stone dropping to the pit of his stomach as Will was hit over and over. The cameraman, _Zach_ , wasn’t just using the leather part of the belt. He was using the metal buckle as well and it was causing visible bruising almost immediately every time it hit the small artist. 

Will was still doing his best to protect himself but he wasn’t trying to fight back or even escape the assault. When Zach finally tired himself out, Will was a bruised and bleeding pile on the floor, a shaking mess of tears and blood. Zach finally dropped the belt. 

Mike breathed a sigh of relief as the onslaught halted, quickly having it replaced by fear as Zach grabbed Will by the back of the neck, that class ring flashing in front of the camera. Zach hauled Will to his knees and pressed him down on the table, spread out over his ruined art. Will didn’t resist or speak, his pale brown eyes were red and flat, the dead fish eyes Mike had seen the day he’d first seen Will’s scars. Will had shut down, injured and exhausted and retreating deep inside himself, somewhere safe. The hand on the back of his neck released it’s hold and the camera panned over Will, apparently admiring the ‘handiwork’. 

“I love you, you know that right? I love you so much. I don’t know why you make me do this to you. Now take off your pants, you fucking slut.”

The video cut off there and Mike was eternally grateful for that. He sat, staring at the still frame for a long time. He was shaking, not knowing how to react to what he’d seen. He had to take this to police, he had to tell someone. This was enough to get a conviction, wasn’t it? Even with a sock puppet account, even with Will never saying the name of the person in the video, this had to be enough. Mike could pick Will up right now and take him to the police station and he could give a statement and Mike could hand over the photos and the video and then… and then… 

And what? Admit he’d known about Will, about his past for long before the man had ever confided in him? Such a deeply personal, traumatising, intimate moment that Will had admitted to, the trust he’d given Mike in that moment... Ruined. How could he admit that he hadn’t deleted the photos and that he’d been getting intermittent messages from Zach for months? Mike swallowed, deeply afraid and angry. He’d really stepped in it this time, hadn’t he?

How could he tell Will these things? He couldn’t go to the police, not yet. He had to breach this subject with care, with delicacy. Mike blocked the user and set his phone down, laying back heavily on the couch to think about what to do. 

Why had Zach shared that message? Why with _Mike_? It was too much like the night they’d met, when Zach had drugged Will and laughed about it, saying he’d ‘gotten Will ready’ for the curly haired man. Was Zach so twisted that he, what, felt some kind of similarity to Mike? Some kind of _kinship_ with him? Did he see a mirror to himself in the med student? Or was he just so over confident that he didn’t think Mike would ever take any action against him?

Mike closed his eyes and rolled to his side, tucking his arms around himself to chase off the sudden chill he felt. Yeah, He’d been a little jealous, a little insecure that Will was spending so much time with someone he clearly felt affection for, but Mike would never, _never_ do that to another person, to _Will_. 

Mike rolled over again, furrowing his brow. He sat up, picking up his phone. He placed an order with Amazon for a few large sketchbooks and shading pencils before moving on to another app. It didn’t take long to add Will as a driver on his insurance plan. At the very least that would give the other man some independence, a way to get around town on days when Steve couldn’t take him where he needed to go to examine equipment and paint swatches and industrial lights. Will had a copy of the company card, he could do all those things whenever he wanted now, using Mike’s car. 

Mike flopped back down and texted a brief message. 

**_Hope your day's going well. I miss you. Want me to pick you up some dinner later? I’ll bring you a gyro. I love you._ **

He waited a moment before closing his eyes again, determined to try and forget the whole ugly ordeal of the text exchange with Zach. Or at the very least, figure out how to talk to Will about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to have hints about Mike's toxic masculinity issues since chapter one, so this was a really good way for me to finally address some of them. I'm a little worn out with twelve hour work days lately so I apologize for any sloppy/late content. I'm trying my best to edit but I keep finding errors after posting, so I apologize if there are a lot in this chapter. Remember, take care of yourselves and be safe, especially if you're involved in the protests happening right now. In my area, I've been seeing a lot of footage of the protests and some are happening just down the way from me and honestly, it's pretty intimidating. I'm worried for all of you. Be well. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will plan a road trip. Mike has an uncomfortable dinner with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild sexual content. Homophobic language.

A month into the semester, Mike was sprawled out on his bed chewing a highlighter and trying to study. His first exam was fast approaching (already? Had these professors no mercy? No heart?) and he felt woefully unprepared. So, Mike took the opportunity, the quiet and stillness of the morning, to try and cram as much as he could. Will was still asleep next to him, not having to be at work for a few hours yet. It was only the second time Will had spent the night at Mike’s place but it was a big step for him. Will had been reluctant to stay, not wanting to intrude on Mike and Dustin’s space. The first time, Will had woken before the other men and slipped out with them none the wiser. It was a relief that Will slept on now, even despite Mike waking and turning on the lamp to study. 

Will slept in a t-shirt and briefs, having curled one of Mike’s pillows around his head and face to block out the light and sounds of early morning birds. The t-shit was nice, one of only a few that Will had recently purchased for himself and it was rumpled from sleep. He’d even taken to wearing basketball shorts and a racer’s tank while jogging so his skin had more color to it than it had ever had (at least in Mike’s memory). Mike had been surprised by how well Will’s skin had taken to the sun after being sheltered from it for so long. While Mike always singed and burned after an hour or so without sunscreen, Will just browned and turned gold, like he’d swallowed a little ray of sun and kept it burning beneath the surface of his body. Mike was a little jealous to be honest. But Will’s sun kissed skin and his comfort wearing shorts and t-shirts were all progress (the same way Will voicing his opinions or even calling Mike by his first name had been progress) and it made Mike’s heart sing. 

The dark haired man yawned and pushed a mass of dark curls away from his face to see better. He’d once tried to tie it back with a rubber band but it had stung and hurt when he attempted to remove it. How did people with long hair do this on the regular? Was there some kind of specialty tie that wouldn’t yank and pull hair out by the root when used? If Mike was going to let his hair continue to grow, he would have to look into it, maybe invest in a few if that was the case, cause these rubber bands just weren’t cutting it. Mike sighed and rolled his shoulders. He’d have to wake Will soon, but he didn’t want to. Will had been so tired lately and he looked peaceful when he was asleep. The tiredness was a reaction to his new medication and it was draining to even just _watch_ the effects on the other man. 

The trazadone for his anxiety made Will tired and foggy in the mornings (Will explained that it felt like being hungover) and the Lexapro for the depression made him nauseous and dizzy during the day, hurting his appetite (which he’d just recently gotten back) but at least he was cutting himself less. So. You know. Baby steps.

Mike knew the side effects of the medication wouldn’t last forever, Will’s body would get accustomed to it eventually, but this was still a difficult time for the artist. At least Will was keeping up with his medical appointments, trying to find the right balance of chemicals that would help him without making him totally zoned out or sick. Mike was happy for that at least, even if Will was still refusing talk therapy. Mike hoped Will would change his mind but he didn’t push the issue. He was happy enough that Will was seeking treatment at all. 

Mike set his textbook aside and yawned again, still feeling a little sluggish himself. Will’s phone beeped, a professional little sound to alert it’s user they had received a message. Mike reached for it automatically to see who would be texting so early in the morning and halted himself. It wasn’t his business and it wasn’t his property. Instead, Mike rolled onto his side to stretch out and lay next to Will who whined and shifted when Mike’s weight bowed the mattress beneath him. Mike pressed a hand against Will’s back, spreading his fingers to span the width between his lover’s shoulders and massage him, trying to wake Will in the most gentle way possible. 

Will mumbled and made a small sound of protest, pulling the pillow more tightly around his head to block out the light and any noise that might disturb his rest. Mike chuckled at Will’s reluctance to wake and lifted his palm to start using his finger tips instead. He trailed up and down Will’s back, over the fabric of his shirt making patterns, writing words with the pads of his fingers. Will had always been a heavier sleeper than Mike but the medication made it that much more apparent. 

The shorter man made another sound, less of protest this time and rolled onto his back, pulling the pillow with him as his legs tangled in the blankets. Will peeked out from under the pillow blearily and mumbled something incomprehensible before returning to hide under it again. 

Will looked cute like this, swimming in the sheets, legs tangled around them while he complained about needing just five more minutes of sleep. Mike grinned, noticing Will’s morning wood now that he’d rolled onto his back. He could think of another way to wake Will that might be more fun than just rubbing his back. Mike shifted, easing down the bed to where Will’s legs poked out between the green and grey of the blankets. 

He bent his head and kissed Will’s outer thigh, feeling the soft hair and smooth muscle beneath his lips. Will murmured again as Mike lifted one of Will’s legs to make room for the taller man to nestle between them. With one of Will’s legs over his shoulder, Mike settled in to nuzzle and mouth at Will’s hip. He pushed the fabric of the shirt aside to expose the smaller man’s stomach and kiss just above the elastic band of his briefs. 

“It’s almost time to get up,” he whispered, pushing the shirt a little higher to expose more of the slender waist beneath his fingers and mouth.

The thigh on Mike’s shoulder squeezed a little and Will peeked out from beneath the pillow again to look at Mike and grumble some half hearted complaint about sleep. Mike chuckled again at the tired protest and kissed the area around Will’s cock over the fabric. Will made another noise and wiggled his hips, encouraging Mike to continue despite wanting the sleep. The taller man mouthed at Will through the fabric until Will loosened his hold on the pillow and used one of his hands to tangle in Mike’s curls. 

“Tease,” the artist whispered, shifting his hips enough so Mike could push the briefs down around his thighs. 

“Try and keep quiet,” Mike said, kissing Will’s bare skin now. “Dustin’s still asleep.”

Will hummed in acknowledgement and shifted his hips again, using the pillow to more fully cover his face and muffle any sounds he might make. Mike smiled and set to work, enveloping the other man in his mouth, tonguing Will’s piercing. Will’s new antidepressants made it difficult for the artist to orgasm, but Mike didn’t mind. He still loved this, pleasuring Will with his mouth for as long as his lover needed. Will was so appreciative, so affectionate and responsive when Mike was spending time just working him, pleasuring him. Mike loved every second of this, especially when Will was tired and slowly coming awake beneath him, beneath his touches. He loved the quiet of the still room, broken only by Will’s soft noises and the sounds of Mike’s mouth on him, enthusiastically licking and sucking his lover in the dim lighting of the room with the sun just peeking through the blinds. It took a while, but was well worth the effort. When Will came, twitching and bucking onto Mike’s mouth, Mike swallowed him down and, lapping up Will’s spend happily as Will finally pushed the pillow away from his face. When they detached from each other, Mike handed Will his phone. 

“Someone sent you a message earlier,” he said, dropping the device in the artist’s thin hand. 

Will tensed a little as he took the phone. 

“Who was it…?”

Mike shrugged. 

“I dunno. I didn’t check.” Mike responded, pulling his shirt on. 

Will relaxed a little, accepting the answer and looking down at his phone. He read it and typed a quick reply. When he was done, he glanced over at Mike. 

“Hey, I’m going to have to cancel our plans for next weekend. I’m sorry,” Will said quietly, setting his phone down while he looked for his own clothes. 

Mike blinked, surprised. 

“Everything okay?”

What had the message said? Who had it been from? Mike hoped it wasn’t Zach. Now there was a horrific thought. What if Zach had screen capped his conversations with Mike and sent them to Will? Mike felt his throat tighten in anxiety while he waited for Will to speak.

“Everythings fine. I just have to go to Richmond,” Will explained, sitting to pull on a pair of socks. 

“Oh uh, your mom’s in Richmond, right?” Mike questioned, running a comb through his hair. 

Will paused. 

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

It was Mike’s turn to pause. Oh shit. Will had never told him about his family, not in depth anyway. Mike knew Will had a mom, a step dad, a brother, and a deadbeat bio dad somewhere but none of them lived close to him. Robin had let that tidbit of information slip the night after Mask when she’d been talking to Mike about Will’s past. Mike cleared his throat. 

“Robin mentioned it. Your mom okay?”

Will nodded, accepting the answer.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Her anniversary with his husband is in a few weeks and my brother is coming to town next week so she wants me to come and celebrate with them. I haven’t seen my brother in a while, so I’d like to go. If that’s okay,” he added, quickly, looking over at Mike to see his reaction. 

Mike hated that Will still did that kind of thing, looked to him for approval in matters that had nothing to do with Mike. It wasn’t Mike’s place to tell Will if or when he could see his family. Mike shrugged. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Will looked relieved and continued to pull his socks into place.

“Is it okay if I use your computer for a minute?” Will asked, looking up. 

“Yeah, sure,” Mike said, striding towards his desk to type in his password and make room for Will to sit. 

Will settled in and started typing, looking things up. Mike watched from over his shoulder. 

“A bus schedule?”

“Yeah. Richmond’s too far to bike,” Will said with a laugh, taking notes on departure times and locations. 

“What day do you need to be there?” Mike asked, setting the comb down. 

“Friday night. If I leave in the morning I should be able to get there by sundown.”

Leaving in the morning and not reaching his destination until the evening? That seemed excessive for a drive that would only take two hours, if that. Mike frowned. 

“I mean, I can drive you,” he offered. “There’s no reason for you to spend seven hours or more on a two hour drive.”

Will hesitated, hands hovering over the keys. 

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to have to make a four hour round trip _twice_ just for me. I can just take the bus,” he said, voice soft.

“It’s honestly fine. I can get a hotel room and hole up with my books and get some studying done. It’s not a big deal, I don’t mind,” Mike said, slipping his shoes on with a shrug. 

Will hesitated again. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden…”

Mike turned, standing to move behind Will and kiss him on the crown of his head. 

“ _You’re not._ Besides. I really don’t mind. It can be our first road trip. If you can handle my singing for two hours, I think you might be a keeper,” he joked, smelling the scent of Will’s hair as he kissed him. 

Will finally smiled and looked over his shoulder at the taller man. 

“I would love to take a road trip with you, singing and all. Maybe I can help you finally get on key.”

“I very much doubt that,” Mike laughed, nuzzling against Will’s hair again. 

**

Mike’s own surprise text message later that day was a lot less welcome than Will’s had been. It was from Holly, asking him to come to a family dinner that night. Mike sighed, not particularly wanting to deal with Ted and all of his bullshit but Holly was asking and she’d didn’t ask for much so he agreed. Besides, even if Ted was perpetually disappointed with his son, Karen was always kind to him and treated him well. He loved his mom and sisters so Mike agreed, even though he didn’t have any actual desire to attend. 

Mike hesitated in the driveway, looking at his childhood home from his place safely hidden in his car. He took a breath and existed, approaching the door to knock quietly beneath the wreath of fall leaves and other foliage. After a moment, the door swung open and Karen was blinked up at her son in surprise, a smiling blooming on her face.

“Hey Mom,” He said, shuffling his feet nervously.

“Oh, hi honey! I didn’t know you were coming by. Did your father call you? I swear that man doesn’t tell me anything,” she said, pulling her son into a brief hug. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. Holly told me to come…” he said, feeling suddenly unsure. 

Karen tsked and waved a hand. 

“Oh that girl, she takes after her father that way. Never tells anyone anything. Well come in, Mike. I’ll see what I’ve got to make you,” she said, fussing over her only son like she’d done when he was younger. “Your dad’s out back, you should say hi so he doesn’t have a stroke when he sees you. I’m guessing he didn’t know you were coming either.”

Mike nodded, following his mother inside and headed past her as she veered off into the kitchen to look around for something to feed her son. Mike felt like he was walking through a dream (or a nightmare). Nothing had changed and yet everything had. How long had it been since he’d been home? Since he’d set foot in this place? Months? A year? Mike didn’t even remember. 

He paused at the screen door to the back yard, watching his father tend the grill. Mike took another breath and pulled the door aside and stepped out. Ted didn’t even turn to acknowledge that someone had come to join him as he sipped a beer and poked at the food. Mike cleared his throat. 

“Hey, Dad.”

Ted finally turned, looking Mike over with a surprised expression. 

“Micheal. What are you doing here?” he asked, not looking entirely pleased to see his son.

“Uh, I came for dinner. How are things?” Mike asked, feeling awkward and shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

“Oh, fine, fine,” Ted said, adjusting his glasses and looking his son over again. “What’s with the hair? You look like a girl. I know you’re busy with school but you can't find time to get to a barber? Well, there are shears around here somewhere. Feel free to use them.”

Mike reached up, touching his hair tentatively. Yeah, it was a little long, almost down to his shoulders now. He dropped his hand to his side, feeling self conscious. 

“That’s okay. I kind of like it, actually.”

Ted sighed, unimpressed with his middle child. 

“You like looking like a lesbian activist? Well okay, as long as you keep your grades up. I don’t want to be any more embarrassed than I was last semester,” Ted said with a dismissive shrug. 

Mike faltered, confused. 

“Dad I was… I was in the top thirty percent of my class…” he tried weakly, looking for a way to defend himself against the criticism. 

“Well the way your mother coddles you, paying all the tuition bills and giving you play money so you can concentrate on school, I expected at least top ten percent, if not top five.”

Mike took a step back, feeling his shoulders slouch a little. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll work harder this semester,” he breathed, lowering his gaze to look at his shoes, suddenly very interested in them.

Ted nodded, turning away to focus back on the grill. 

“I need to throw another burger on or are you still eating that rabbit food?”

“Dad, it’s better for your health and our family has a history of high cholesterol…”

“So still rabbit food then? Okay,” Ted said, cutting him off. 

“Dad, I’m interested in cardiology… It’s hard to ignore the benefits of a plant based diet and-”

“Micheal, I don’t need a long winded explanation. I just needed to know whether or not you wanted me to grill you a burger. Besides, I wanted you to be a surgeon, not a cardiologist. I had high hopes for you Micheal. Nancy wasted her potential on journalism. Did you know she’s not even lead reporter yet? Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised you wouldn’t be interested in surgery though. You’ve always been so sensitive to gore. ”

Mike chewed his lip. He really didn’t think that being scared of slasher movies as an eight year old made him sensitive. And besides, he _had_ spent all last summer dissecting cadavers for extra practice. You know, _actual human bodies_? He doubted Ted could have stomached that. 

“You know, I think I’m gonna check in on Mom… See if she needs any help.”

“You really should. You showed up unannounced and I’m sure your mother is scrambling to pull something together for you. You really should call her more, Micheal,” Ted said, waving a hand dismissively, letting his son know he didn’t particularly care if Mike came or went. 

_I was invited…It’s not my fault Holly doesn’t tell anyone anything,_ he thought bitterly, looking down at his feet.

Mike turned to leave, wandering back inside to search for his mother. He found her in the kitchen, adding candied walnuts and dried cranberries to a salad she was making. She glanced up when she heard Mike approaching and smiled. 

“I hope this is okay. If I’d known you were coming I would have gotten you something more substantial. You’re so skinny,” she said, poking him in the ribs. 

“It looks great, Mom. Anything I can do to help?” he asked, feeling weird and upset that his mom was going out of her way to make him something to eat.

“I’ve got some edamame and boiled eggs in the fridge. If you shell them for me I can get them chopped up and added for you. I want to make sure you have enough.”

“Yeah, you got it,” Mike said, moving past his mother to get the requested ingredients. 

“So where’s Holly?” he asked after a moment, wondering why his sister, the person who invited him here, hadn’t shown up yet.

“Oh, I think she’s in her room. Being a teenager, you know. She hasn’t been herself lately,” Karen commented, cutting some radishes to add in to the salad. 

Mike frowned. Why did Holly even ask him to come if she was going to hide the whole time? It didn’t much matter because Ted was walking back inside with the burgers and was already yelling for his youngest child to get downstairs, food was ready. Well, the rest of the family's food was ready. Mike hurried to complete his task and not hold everyone up. 

Karen set the table, Mike trailing behind her, helping where he could. Holly finally emerged from her room and skulked over to the dining room, plopping down at the table. Mike glanced at her. She looked sullen, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and she waved her hand at Mike, greeting him. 

_You okay?_ Mike mouthed at her as Ted sat and started saying grace, droning on and on. 

Holly shrugged and turned away. Okay. That was weird. Mike went back to looking at his food while Ted kept speaking. When he was finally done, dinner began and small talk ensued. How was school? Work? Everything going well? How were his friends? El doing okay? Mike replied politely, watching his family. Holly was picking at her food, uninterested in it all, mumbling her own answers in a way that was barely audible. Karen was sipping wine and looking at her children, beaming at them. It had been a long time since she had more than one of her chicks in the nest and she was enjoying it. Ted gave more attention to the food than his family, muttering to himself that he’d over cooked the meat. 

“Holly? Honey? Anything you’d like to share?” Karen asked, offering a bowl of potato salad to her youngest after Ted and Mike had had their turns speaking and sharing relevant news. 

Holly blinked up at her mother, shaken from her thoughts. 

“Yeah, actually. I've got something to say to you guys.”

The teen looked at her family as Ted took another bite and Mike raised his fork to work on his salad and watch, wondering if he was going to finally find out what this little family dinner facade was all about. 

“What is it, honey?” Karen asked, taking a sip of her wine. 

Holly looked uncomfortable. _Really_ uncomfortable. What was up?

“I’m pregnant,” she finally announced, staring her family down. 

Karen sputtered and Mike almost choked on a piece of egg. He whipped his head around to look at his father who had paused mid chew. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Ted finally asked, raising his eyes to look at his daughter. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Karen coughed, tapping her hand against her chest. 

“Honey, you’re only sixteen. What do you mean you’re pregnant?”

“And I need a ride to and from the clinic to terminate. They won’t let me drive myself home after the procedure.”

Mike stared at his sister in disbelief. That was a lot to drop all at once, especially on Ted who was so religious and concervative. Mike felt his heart thump uncomfortably and turned to look at his father who had his eyes trained on his youngest child. 

“Young lady, if that’s a joke it’s in very poor taste.”

Holly didn’t look like she was joking. She had narrowed her eyes and was standing her ground. Mike swallowed hard, letting his hands rest in his lap to watch what unfolded. 

“It’s not a joke. I’m pregnant and I need help. So. Who’s going to help me?”

“Honey, I don’t-” Karen was cut off by Ted. 

“Holly, you have five seconds to tell me this is a joke before I get angry,” Ted warned, voice low and strangely even. 

Mike recoiled a little at the tone, trying to make himself invisible. He just wanted to disappear into his chair. _Jesus Holly, just shut up_ he silently begged, but Holly held her ground. It wasn’t that Mike was worried that Ted would physically hurt his daughter, it was just that Ted had a way of making you small, so, so small if you disappointed him. 

“It’s not a joke.”

Ted slammed a fist into the table, making both Mike and Karen jump a little at the impact, but Holly only glared. Mike glanced at his father, frozen in place, unsure what would happen next. Would Holly be sent away? To live as a shameful secret until she reformed and begged her father’s forgiveness? Would Ted actually smack his daughter? He never had before but this was a lot worse than any of the things Mike and Nancy had done as teenagers. 

“Holly, I have never been more disappointed in you. Not when you quit the volleyball team, not even when you dropped out of your AP classes. Not only did you break the covenant of virginity for marriage, you’re telling me you’re going to kill the life within you? I didn’t raise a whore. I forbid it. I will not have you kill a baby just because you can’t keep your legs together. Why can’t you be more like your brother and sister?” Ted asked, staring down his youngest child. 

_Oh please, please don’t drag me into this…_

Mike glanced at his sister, eyes still lowered so as to attract as little attention as possible. His mother was doing the same. To Mike’s surprise, Holly was looking at him. 

_I’m sorry_ she mouthed. 

Sorry? For what?

Holly directed her attention back to her father and began to speak again.

“Yeah, _I’m_ the one ruining your perfect little family picture. Nancy isn’t perfect. She had sex at the same age as me. And Mike’s not some perfect little alter boy. You think he and El weren’t having sex? They were _living_ together for Christ’s sake!” Holly shouted, slamming her own fists down. “And Mike even has a _boyfriend_ now, so don’t act like he’s some perfect little orthadox angel. Jesus Dad, if you’d just let me get on birth control this never would have been an issue!”

Mike choked again, stilling even more than he’d been before he’d been dragged into this. He stared at his sister, color draining from his face in the absolute horror of being outed like that. Next to him, his mother inhaled sharply and across from him Ted went very, very still. 

“Micheal. Is this true?” Ted asked, voice still low and even. 

“I-I-” Mike stuttered, still staring at his sister who mouthed again that she was sorry before turning back to her father. 

“What? Don’t believe me?” Holly asked, glaring daggers at Ted, face burning red. “I saw them downtown, making out and holding hands. I saw them _weeks_ ago and then again last tuesday. If you spent _any_ time with Mike you might know the things that are going on with him, or Nancy for that matter! Neither of them are saints and I’m not either! I need help and support! So are you going to help or not?”

_Shut the fuck up Holly. Just shut up._

Mike’s thoughts were frantic, fearful. How the hell could Holly do this to him? Yeah, they’d never been the _closest_ siblings but he didn’t think he’d done anything to her to earn being outed like this. He looked down at his hands in his lap and prayed he’d vanish into thin air. He knew why Holly had invited him now. She didn’t want to face Ted’s anger alone. She needed a buffer, someone else to take some of the anger that would be directed at her after her confession and the following request for help was sure to cause, and Mike was a perfect target. What could be more disappointing to Ted than his only son, the only one who could pass on the family name and keep the Wheeler line going being involved with another man? The Wheelers weren’t orthadox but Ted had made it pretty clear before (and on multiple occasions) that the family’s moral values were to be derived from the Torah and homosexuality wasn’t welcome in his house. It was part of the reason Mike had never told them why he and El broke up.

Ted clenched his fists and Karen’s hand reached out beneath the table to take Mike’s in hers, a silent show of support for her child. Mike squeezed her hand, letting his mom hold him and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat as his heart pounded frantically, thumping like a funeral drum. Karen had also been more liberal, more accepting than her husband. Mike knew she only humored her husband to keep the peace and quality of life she’d grown accustomed to. Ted finally looked away from his daughter to face his son and Mike shrunk under his gaze. 

“Micheal, I asked you a question. Are you a faggot?”

“Ted!” Karen hissed, squeezing Mike’s hand again. 

Ted raised his hand to quiet her. 

“I asked my son a question, Karen. Micheal?”

Mike raised his eyes, willing them to not be as red as his face was becoming and swallowed, trying to answer his father. 

“Don’t call him that!” Holly shouted. “Mike’s just Mike. There’s nothing wrong with him having a boyfriend! You are such a narrow minded bigot!”

“Holly. Not now. Micheal?” Ted asked again, voice so calm that it sounded a lot like a judge passing a death sentence on someone who was unequivocally guilty. 

“Dad, I-” Mike didn’t know what to say. 

Karen squeezed his hand again, letting him know it was okay, she was here for him, even if his father wasn’t. 

“I-I-I’m seeing someone… We started seeing each other a few months ago and-”

“-Is it a man?” Ted asked, eyes hard, mouth a thin line.

“...Yes…” Mike breathed, squeezing his mom’s hand, wishing she could shield him from this, wrap him up in her arms like when he was little and make it all better. 

“You need to leave,” Ted whispered, voice low with anger. 

“No he doesn’t,” Holly protested, still standing firm. “He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Be quiet Holly. Micheal, get out.”

“Ted-” Karen started, still squeezing her son’s hand under the table, digging her manicured nails into his skin. 

“Karen. Not now. We will discuss this later. Micheal, leave. Holly, get to your room, I will deal with you in a moment.”

“Dad I-” Mike started, not knowing what he could say in this moment that would ease his father’s anger or redirect his attention in some way.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Sight. Micheal,” Ted warned, eyes narrowing at the dark haired man.

Mike shrunk again before standing. His mom still gripped his hand, trying to let him know it was okay, it was going to be okay. She was here for him. He passed his sister, glancing at her in anger and resignation. Holy met his eyes, apologetic and mournful, finally faltering. Mike hurried to his car, worried that if he didn’t get out, Ted would really lose his mind. Mike got in his vehicle, heart still thumping, eyes feeling swollen and throat tight. 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck fuck._

Mike pressed his forehead to the steering wheel of his car and closed his eyes, taking a breath before turning over the ignition to pull away from the war zone that was once his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, another chapter I had to break into two parts. This one is the rough one with some difficult content where as the next one is a lot more fluffy. We finally got to see Mike's family dynamic, next chapter is Will's. I hope you are all well and being safe in these troubling times. Kudos and comments are appreciated and as always, take care of yourselves.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will take a road trip to visit Will's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Not many, this is mostly fluff. Mentioned past abuse and homophobic language/behaviors.

Mike hadn’t texted Will immediately after the family dinner, choosing instead to keep it to himself. He didn’t want to burden Will with all that, with everything that had happened. In fact, Mike didn’t talk about it _at all_ except to his mother when she called him a day later. She assured him that while she didn’t understand his ‘decision to damage his social standing and health by taking up with another man’, she loved him and would do her best to talk to Ted about the situation. 

So yeah, Mike hadn’t told Will about it. The artist seemed so happy; packing for their trip, buying his mom and stepdad a gift for their anniversary, even taking Mike’s car for an oil change and maintenance check and Mike didn’t want to spoil Will’s mood with dark, family matters. Instead, Mike packed his duffle bag, contacted his professors to request any assignments be forwarded to him, and got ready to meet Will’s family. He threw his bags into the backseat as Will slid into the passenger side, shuffling through his phone to find a playlist to listen to while they drove. Mike looked over, raising his eyebrow at some of the list names. 

‘Steve drunks enjoy’, ‘cruising mix’, ‘why is your heart rate under 160?’ ‘ DnD ambient moods’ and things like that. 

“What uh, what is ‘Will’s 90s fuck you Robin it makes me happy’?” Mike asked, settling in to drive. 

Will laughed, pulling up the list so Mike could see it.

“Oh, Robin has a grunge 90s list and all mine are kind of pop hits. She says I have terrible taste in 90s music, so I made this list to spite her. I just kind of like the upbeat things,” he explained, smiling a little, trailing off with a shrug. “We all share a Spotify account so I like to Jack the Bluetooth speaker for the store when she’s getting on my nerves.”

“Turn it on,” Mike encouraged, putting the car in gear. 

“Are you sure? It’s pretty cheesy…” Will said, shifting and pulling off his hoodie to reveal a ‘Book of Mormon’ T-shirt that declared ‘I’m gonna man up all over myself!’ as the temperature climbed into the 70s at barely past 9 am. “It’s a lot of Backstreet Boys, TLC, that kind of thing.”

Mike laughed, throwing an arm over the headrest of Will’s seat so he could turn to watch behind him as he backed out of the carport. 

“I’m sure. Trust me, I like cheesy.”

“Just remember, you asked for this,” Will warned as ‘What is Love’ started blaring through the speakers. 

Will hadn’t been joking about the greatest hits of the 90s and halfway through Will Smith’s ‘Gettin Jiggy With It’ with Will rapping along, Mike thought there was a very real possibility of crashing the car from laughing so hard. When ‘Lovefool’ came on, it was Mike’s turn to croon along while Will harmonized beside him. Mike loved the sound of Will’s voice, especially raised and joyfully singing full blast as he let his hand hang outside of the window while the air blew his feather soft hair away from his face. When the song ended, Will turned to face Mike, still smiling.

“Hey, can I drive the rest of the way?”

Mike blinked at him, surprised. 

“Are you comfortable with the highway?” The taller man asked, having never seen Will drive anywhere other than a residential street. 

Will shrugged, a little half gesture. 

“Not really, but there’s a state route around here. It might take a little longer but there’s a farmers market we can pull off at. Besides, you could use a break,” Will said, looking hopeful that Mike would agree to letting him drive. 

It was true enough. Mike wasn’t used to long drives living in the same town for so long and his legs were starting to cramp up a little. He could use the excuse to stretch his legs and take a break while Will took the wheel. He smiled at the artist, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. 

“Okay. Where’s the farmers market? We can stop there and you can drive the rest of the way, I’ll navigate.”

Will looked exceptionally pleased and leaned back in the seat, offering directions as Mike drove. The farmers market was quiet and quaint. Mike bought fresh cut flowers for Will’s mom (so he could hopefully make a good impression) while Will purchased fruit, vegetables, and freshly ground coffee. When it was Will’s turn to drive, it was actually kind of cute. He had to adjust the seat and the mirrors to accommodate his smaller stature, signaled way before he needed to, and took turns like Mike’s Nana did. At least Mike wouldn’t have to worry about Will causing a fender bender with reckless driving. The artist was acting like everyone else on the road (as few as there may have been) were trying to kill him. 

When Mike saw there were approaching the intended destination, he felt a wave of nausea brought on by nerves and increasing anxiety. After what had happened at his own family dinner, Mike didn’t know what to expect from Will’s. But Will didn't seem nervous in the slightest, not even after they pulled into the driveway and parked. In fact, the slim man was pulling his bags of produce from the car and practically trotting to the front door, barely waiting for Mike to follow. Mike took a deep breath to steady his nerves and picked up the flowers, trailing behind his small lover. 

Mike paused, totally shocked when Will just… pushed the door open and let himself in. Wasn’t he going to knock? He hadn’t called or texted to let anyone know he was there but Will walked in like he owned the place, motioning for Mike to follow. Mike hesitated again. Was he really supposed to just walk into a house that wasn’t his? The taller man swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat from anxiety and stepped in, trying to stay close to Will who was calling out. 

“Mom? Mooooooom! We’re here!” the brunette called, glancing around before kicking off his shoes.

Movement deeper inside the house alerted both men that someone was coming and Mike watched as a dark haired woman rounded a corner, face bright with excitement. She threw her arms around her son, making him stoop to return the hug as she covered his face with kisses. 

“Will! Baby! I’m so glad to see you! How was the drive? Any traffic? It’s so good to see you I missed you so much you don’t even know. How are you?” she asked, cupping Will’s face in her hands to look at him. 

Behind her, a man with a kind smile emerged and waited his turn to greet the artist with a half hug and pat on the back. Mike stood motionless, uneasy as the woman turned her attention to him. He suddenly felt very self conscious and worried that his hair was a mess, his shirt a little damp from sweat, and his shoes were coated in dirt and he hadn’t kicked them off as Will had upon entering the home. As the woman stepped closer, Will turned to introduce him. 

“Mom, this is Mike.”

The curly haired man held out the flowers to the woman, offering them awkwardly. 

“I’m Mike Wheeler Ma’am. I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, lowering his eyes. 

The woman accepted the flowers and to Mike’s surprise, pulled him down into an exceptionally strong hug. Jesus, she was _tiny_ , no wonder Will was so petite. Mike stood frozen for a moment before returning the hug, feeling the woman’s hair against his cheek as she pulled him in. 

“Oh Honey, I’m so happy to meet you. Will’s told us all about you. And flowers? Aren’t you the sweetest thing,” she said, giving Mike a kiss on the cheek as she withdrew. 

“T-Thank you, Ma’am,” he said, taken off guard by how affectionate Will’s mother was towards him. 

Joyce took a step back and looked Mike over, making him feel even more self conscious and he averted his eyes again under what he was sure was her scrutinizing gaze. 

“Oh my, look at those _curls_ ,” she chirped, touching one around Mike’s shoulder, making him jump and then shrink with embarrassment. He knew he should have gotten a haircut. 

“I wish mine would curl like that but the best I can manage is waves,” she explained, motioning her own dark hair. “You’re so lucky.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said again, taken off guard by the compliment.

Was she making fun of him? It didn’t seem like it from the way Joyce laughed good naturedly and motioned her husband forward to introduce himself to Mike. The man extended his hand and when Mike reached to return the gesture, he was pulled into another half hug. 

“Bob Newby. Nice to meet you, son,” he said, patting Mike on the back. 

“Mike Wheeler, Sir.”

Bob raised an eyebrow, surprised and broke into a smile. 

“Gosh, he’s a polite one. Will, you need to bring him around more.”

Will beamed, looking more relaxed and happy than Mike had ever seen him, even in his own home. 

“I know.”

“Honey, why don’t you get the boys’ bags inside for them. They must be tired from the drive and I can make us all sandwiches while they settle in. Did you boys eat breakfast” Joyce asked, tapping her husband on the shoulder before turning to Mike, not waiting for an answer. “Is the car unlocked?”

Mike started to protest, to explain that he saw a hotel a few miles back and that he didn’t want to be a bother but Joyce quickly cut him off and stamped out that idea. 

“Nonsense. We have plenty of room assuming you and Will don’t mind sharing. When Will was little, he used to do this anxious thing with his feet where he’d rub them together in his sleep. Cricket feet, that’s what we called it. Anyway, he kept me up all night whenever he wanted to snuggle. Is he still doing that?” Joyce asked, looking at her son affectionately. 

Will blushed hard, red with embarrassment. 

“Mom…”

“Well Honey, you did. It was always after watching those scary movies with Jonathan.”

Mike laughed, a short, unexpected sound. 

“Yeah, he still does that,” the tall man confirmed, cracking a smile. 

“Well, assuming that doesn’t drive you crazy,” Joyce said, addressing Mike again, “I already have the guest room set up. I won’t have you wasting money on a hotel when we have plenty of space,” she finished, tapping her son on the chest to quiet his embarrassed mumbling. 

Mike was beyond surprised, he was taken aback really. Not only were Joyce and Bob accepting of Will, they had prepared for and were actively encouraging Mike to spend the night in the same room as his boyfriend. Oh, wow. That was the first time Mike had thought of Will as his boyfriend. He flushed a little red as Bob moved past him to get the bags and Will took him by the hand to lead him to the kitchen where Joyce was fussing about in a manner remarkably similar to her son’s as she cut tomatoes and toasted bread. 

Mike helped Will set up the patio, unsure of what to do other than trail behind the artist like a lost puppy looking for guidance. He settled for spreading the umbrella out to offer shade to the family while Will set the table and lit citronella candles. Joyce emerged from the kitchen, placing the food on everyone’s plate. Bob had returned, sitting happily next to his wife while Will and Mike settled next to each other, Mike between both petite brunettes. The food Joyce had set down were BLTs and Mike peered at the sandwich, trying to decide how to best eat around the bacon when Will piped up. 

“Mom, Mike’s a vegetarian. I told you that.”

The tall man blushed, not wanting to be the cause of any problems. Joyce huffed. 

“I know that. Will, you act like I don't listen when you’re talking. As soon as you said you and Mike were coming for a visit I went out and bought all the things I thought I might need. Mike, Honey, the bacon is that Morningstar stuff so it’s perfectly safe for you to eat,” Joyce said, turning her attention to the curly haired man as she patted his arm. “Tonight we’re having sweet potato and black bean enchiladas and tomorrow is fried green tomatoes. I just figured you’d both be hungry by the time you got here so the BLTs are just what I had on hand. Let me know if you have any requests, okay Hun?” she said, patting Mike’s arm again (making him burn redder) before returning her attention to the food. 

Mike glanced up at Will who simply shrugged and took a bite of his food, as if his mother going out of her way to change the entire family’s meal plan to accommodate Mike’s restricted eating habits wasn’t that big of a deal. Mike looked at his food, feeling a mild tingle burning in the corner of his eyes that he pushed away stubbornly. 

“So, Mike, Will tells us you met while he was doing a piece for you?” Bob said, motioning to Mike’s arm. “Is that the one?”

“Oh. Yes, Sir. He’s really talented, I’m extremely lucky to have his art as a tattoo,” Mike replied, turning to address the other man.

“Will’s always been creative. Remind me to show you later but I have some binders around here somewhere with all the drawing he did as a kid,” Joyce said, beaming at her son.

“Mom, come on…” Will complained. “Mike doesn’t want to see that.”

“Yes I do,” Mike interjected, suddenly very excited. All his parents had kept from Mike’s childhood had been ‘A’ report cards and research papers he’d gotten awards for. “I’d love to see Will’s old drawings.”

“And I’m happy to show you,” Joyce said with a teasing smile at her son who was also turning red with embarrassment. “I’m so proud of him.”

“Yeah, he’s really something. This kid’s been through the ringer and only came out stronger,” Bob agreed, sipping his lemonade. 

Will still looked embarrassed, but he smiled, just a little as well. Bob turned his attention back to Mike, still offering that warm, friendly look. 

“Will also tells us you’re in medical school. That’s exciting. What specialty are you interested in?”

Mike paused, remembering the conversation with his own father. He swallowed a bite of food and cleared his throat. 

“Cardiology, Sir. But I haven’t made up my mind. Could be surgery…”

Joyce let out a sound of approval and raised her eyebrows. 

“That’s great. Both sound amazing. You don't have to decide just yet, there’s plenty of time for that. Are you looking at any hospitals for your internship yet? Or is it too early? Any ideas where you’d like to end up?” she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she ate. 

“Maybe somewhere warm. I’d need to get my grades up to get the hospital of my choice though…”

“Mike’s in the top thirty percent of his class,” Will chimed in, making Mike flinch a little. 

“I’m going to work harder this semester-”

Bob cut him off, apparently having sensed Mike’s discomfort. 

“Hey, do you know what you call the guy who graduated last in his medical class?” he asked, looking at Mike. 

Mike hesitated. 

“I-I don’t know, Sir.”

“Doctor,” Bob said with a smile. 

Mike stared at him, trying to decide if the joke was meant to be cruel before cracking a smile himself. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“That’s absolutely right,” Joyce agreed. “You’re kind of hard in yourself, aren’t you, Honey?” she asked, giving Mike’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing great. I bet your parents are so proud of you.”

Mike flushed a little and tilted his head down to hide behind his curls so the others wouldn’t see his face. Not really. Well, maybe his mom but Ted… These people that Mike had only known for a singular, short hour seemed more proud of and accepting of him than his own father. They showed both Will and Mike more support and kindness than Mike had _ever_ gotten from his father. He peeked out from beneath his curls to nod and smile at Will, not at all surprised that these were the people Will had come from, that he’d been raised by. Mike took another bite of his sandwich and relaxed the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders. 

**

Turns out Will’s brother’s flight wouldn't be in until late afternoon. Joyce and Bob set out to pick him up early, leaving Will and Mike to their own devices for the time being. Mike was spreading out already, his books like creeping, sentient vines making their way across the guest bed while he tried to study and Will wandered the house, tidying up for his mother while she was away. Mike tried to concentrate on his studies but Joyce hadn’t been kidding, she really did have binders and binders full of Will’s old drawings and Mike’s eyes kept wandering over to them.

Mike pushed the text books aside and looked over the drawings while Will cleaned, interested in the progression in quality (and dark content) of the drawings. He really wasn’t going to get any studying done anyway, not now, not while he was so enraptured by Will’s work.

Mike paused on what looked like early renditions of the mutated dogs and the smoke monster that had become the Stranger Inks logo. They were rough sketches, barely more than scribbles and they looked somehow more frightening that way. When Will finally came to plop down next to him, Mike glanced up. 

“Hey, what’s the story here?” he asked, indicating the drawings and making room for Will to lie down on his stomach next to his tall lover. 

“Oh, um… When I was eleven or so I fell off my bike into a quarry. I wasn’t the best swimmer and it took forever for me to get out so when I did I was really cold and tired so I guess I wandered off into the woods and fell asleep. It took a long time for anyone to find me and when they did I was in a coma and had partial organ damage from hypothermia. I mean, I’m obviously okay now but at the time no one even knew if I was going to make it. I kept having these _horrible_ dreams about stuff in the dark coming after me. Monsters and what not, so I hid. I’ll never forget what they looked like,” Will said, pausing, honey eyes distant. 

“Your parents must have been really worried,” Mike whispered, drawing Will’s attention back to him. 

“Well, my mom was. Jonathan said she had a psychotic break of some kind when I was missing. Lonnie, my dad, wasn’t too worried about it though,” Will said, glancing away. 

Mike shifted, brushing his shoulder against Will. 

“He had faith you’d pull through?”

Will shrugged, still not looking at the taller man. 

“No, he thought I’d die. He was just more concerned with the life insurance policy I think. At least, that’s what Jonathan said.”

It was Mike’s turn to pause, confused and horrified. Will had been on death’s door and his dad _wanted_ him to walk through? Mike couldn’t even imagine that being his reaction to a child nearly dying, to _Will_ nearly dying. He reached out, touching Will’s shoulder lightly. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine. No lasting damage. But uh, that’s what the drawings are about. Well, most of them,” Will said, flipping through the binder, looking for something. 

He eventually rolled to his side to look at Mike. The taller man curled an arm around Will and kissed the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s not what I meant. I’m glad you’re alive, by the way.”

Will laughed, leaning into the touch as he curled closer. 

“I’m glad you’re alive too.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Mike questioned, carding a hand through Will’s soft hair. “Have you ever… thought about going to the police about Zach?”

Will tensed up at the question, eyes closing. 

“Why um… Why are you asking about that?”

Mike hesitated again. He had thought this would be a good time to bring it up, when Will was relaxed and happy and safe in his mother’s home. He was less sure now. 

“Well I mean… with everything he did to you, there has to be evidence. He could be put away for that.”

Will shifted, pulling away a little to look at Mike.

“I, I tried once or twice but… All the cops saw was a hysterical strung out kid. Zach didn’t have a record, not until he and Steve got into it and I kinda did so… they didn’t really take me seriously,” Will explained, having difficulty meeting Mike’s eyes. 

“You have a record?” Mike asked, a little shocked that this quiet, demure man he’d grown to know could have any kind of negative police interactions. 

“Yeah uh, like I said, I was pretty defiant as a teenager. I mouthed off a lot, marched in protests and vandalized some public property and um… maybe sold some benzos I was prescribed instead of taking them because I wanted some money of my own instead of being reliant on Zach for everything,” Will confessed, still pulling away. “So, no, I haven’t gone to the police since. They made it pretty clear that I was just a queer druggie with a record. I mean, I’m not a kid anymore but they still wouldn’t believe me.”

“What about the scars?” Mike asked, leaning back to look more fully at Will who was still carefully avoiding eye contact. 

“Mike, I mean, I’m a self mutilator. I’ve been hospitalized for it before. There was a reason I had controlled substances as a prescription. So, I’m not the most reliable person in their eyes… What's the point in trying? In humiliating myself and dredging up the past?”

“Will, I think you need to try. If there was evidence-”

Will laughed, a short, harsh sound that bordered on a snarl. 

“What evidence? It’s been two years. All I have is my word against his.”

“Well what if there _was_ evidence?” Mike asked, still pushing, right on the edge of telling the truth. “Videos of photos or something like that?”

Will froze, color draining from his face. Mike watched, waiting for a reaction. Will knew there was evidence, or at least that there had been at some point. He’d tried to hide his face from the camera, had seen Zach videotaping the beating that had led to the massive scarring on his back and shoulders. What would he say to the idea of bringing that footage to light?

“I would never want anyone to see what he did to me, police or not,” Will finally said, voice small. “It was the worst period of my life, Mike. I just want to put it behind me.”

Will turned, finally meeting Mike’s gaze. He moved closer instead of further away and curled into the taller man again, resting his head on his arms like a pillow while Mike pulled him in protectively. Okay. So telling Will he’d seen the footage, still _had_ it on his phone was out. At least for now. It didn't mean he would _never_ tell Will he had it, just that maybe right now wasn’t the best time for such things. 

Mike sighed and squeezed Will around the shoulders. The smaller man made a sound and wriggled closer, tilting his head up to look at Mike.

“Thanks for bringing me here, by the way. I know my mom and Bob can be a little much.”

Mike laughed, surprised by the non sequitur and hugged Will tighter. 

“No, they’re great. I like them.”

“Well, Jonathan at least won’t try to hug or kiss you. Probably. I can’t make any promises though,” Will assured him, closing his eyes to rest.

**

Well, Will had been right about that. The least welcoming member of Will’s family had to be his brother, and it was by a lot. Mike looked him over, seeing the family resemblance almost immediately. Jonathan was slim, with feathery brown hair and downcast eyes but he had a sullen, almost unsure look about him (closer to the way Will had looked when they met than now). Jonathan had been polite, shaking Mike’s hand and greeting him with a quiet ‘hey’ before turning his attention back to his family. 

Mike didn’t mind. With both Byers children together, Joyce had diverted some of her unrelenting affection away from Mike to her children and Mike was grateful. While he did like her immensely, she was a _little_ much and it was overwhelming how much she fussed over him. 

On the second day of their visit, Mike lounged on the patio trying again to cram for his exams when Jonathan slipped out the side door, looking for a way to escape the onslaught of love from his mother. 

“Hey,” Mike said, watching Will’s brother who was making his way towards the table. 

“Hey,” the older man replied, settling in across from Mike. 

The curly haired man wasn’t sure what to say next. Jonathan hadn’t been very talkative (at least not to Mike) and it was a little off putting to have him come and sit in silence with Mike while he tried to study. The freckled man shifted, struggling to come with a topic of conversation more meaningful than the weather when Jonathan finally broke the silence. 

“So. You and Will.”

“Uh, yeah. Me and Will.”

“You treating him right?” Jonathan asked, brown eyes focusing in on Mike.

Mike blinked.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Cause I know what kind of guys have gone after him before. Predators. He’s too sweet, too passive to see shit till it’s too late. Let’s people take advantage of him. If you’re treating him with anything other than respect… We’re going to have problems,” Jonathan said, making Mike shift, uncomfortable. 

Mike considered what to say. 

“Hey man, I get it. I know About Will’s past. I’m nothing like Zach.”

Jonathan looked Mike over, eyes hard and critical. 

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m sorry, what?” mike asked, confused by the question. 

“Why are you here? Are you trying to make sure Will doesn’t get out of line? That he doesn’t let something slip when he’s with family you wouldn’t want people to know about?” Jonathan asked, leaning back in his chair. 

Mike blinked again. Jonathan was a lot more direct than his younger brother, that was for sure. Mike cleared his throat, trying to decide how to respond. 

“I’m just here because Will needed a ride and then Joyce invited me to stay. I was gonna get a hotel room and leave you and your family alone,” he said, closing the textbook. “But I get it, you’re worried about Will. I get it, I really do. I’m not like that. Ask him yourself.”

“I did. It’s hard to get him to talk,” Jonathan said, still observing Mike for a reaction, some admission of guilt maybe. 

_Don’t I know it._

The curly haired man shifted, not sure where this conversation was going. 

“Is there something you want from me? Something I can do to ease your mind?” Mike asked, not sure how to ingratiate himself to Will’s older brother. 

“You can leave. Go take a drive while I talk to my brother in private. Leave your cell phone so I know you’re not texting him the entire time and give me an hour with him and then we’ll see.”

Wow. Jonathan was a _lot_ more direct than his younger sibling. They may look similar but Jonathan had a harder edge, less bullshit about him. Mike swallowed and nodded slowly. 

“Anywhere you want me to go, exactly?”

Jonathan shrugged. 

“I don’t care. Just away from here, for a little while.”

“You got it,” Mike said, uncomfortable with the distrust but understanding it. 

He glanced around, seeing Will and his mother moving around in the kitchen, before glancing back to the man across the table from him. 

“What should I tell Will?” he asked, not wanting to step on Jonathan’s toes while trying to earn his trust but also not wanting to dip out without telling Will he was going. 

“Nothing. Just go. I don’t want him to be scared to talk. So, I don’t want you threatening him on your way out the door. Do you have your keys on you or should I go get them?” the older man asked, still watching Mike for any telling reactions to his request. 

“I have them.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you in an hour.”

Mike hesitated again, torn between doing what he was asked and not wanting Will to feel like he’d just taken off. After a second, he stood and handed his phone over to Jonathan.

“Yeah, sure man,” he said, feeling a little attacked and defensive as a result. 

Mike hadn’t done anything to provoke this kind of response from Will’s brother but maybe Zach had been able to fool Will’s family before. It wouldn’t have been surprising but the unfairness of being punished for crimes he hadn’t committed still stung a little. Mike supposed he should be grateful that Will’s brother was trying to vet him, to dig deeper and protect Will.

He moved to walk around the backyard to the front, excusing himself to take the drive. Jonathan continued to watch him until Mike was well away from the patio and in his car. 

Mike drove, not really sure where he was going but not terribly worried. He had GPS in the car and his phone was locked so there wasn’t anything to worry about there. For the first time in a long time, Mike wasn’t even worried about Will. he was safe with his family and Mike knew that they would take care of him. Mike didn’t worry about what would be said between the brothers either. He’d never done anything to Will to earn ire from Jonathan and he was sure that eventually, the older man would see that. Mike loved Will, he didn’t want to stifle or control him. If taking off for a while was what it took to give Jonathan room to come around to that conclusion, Mike was willing to do that. Mike wanted Jonathan’s respect and approval, almost as badly as he wanted his own family’s. Not because Mike felt particularly fond of Jonathan, but because he was Will’s brother.

The tall man stopped at a roadside stand, buying more green tomatoes to replace the ones Joyce was going to fry up that night and he got a chance to talk to the proprietor for a while. She even gave Mike a few seeds of his own in case he wanted to start his own garden next year, since he wasn’t a local. Mike thanked her, even though he wasn’t sure he’d ever try his own hand at gardening. Mike had tried to have house plants before and killed them. Dustin said he had the black thumb of death. Maybe he could give the seeds to his mother. Karen had always grown flowers, how different would vegetables be? Mike could drop the seeds off with his mom and she could… could…

Could what? Since the day of the family dinner, Mike had only spoken to Karen once. How likely was it that Ted would even let his son stop at home at all let alone allow Karen grow a garden with seeds given to her by Mike? Karen had told Mike that it was all going to be okay but she hadn’t specified _how_. Holly hadn't even tried to contact him (but Mike suspected it had more to do with Ted taking away her laptop and phone than because of just negligence on her part) so Mike didn’t even know what kind of atmosphere he’d be walking into if he tried to return home. 

Mike pocketed the seeds anyway. Maybe he could give them to Will’s mom instead. She was at least on speaking terms with Mike and she had even offered him a place to stay and warm food to eat. She and Bob had been so kind and supportive to not only Will but to Mike too, an almost complete stranger to them. Mike found himself wishing vaguely that they were _his_ family. Fuck, he wanted _Will_ to be his family too. Mike wanted to be with Will always, to spend his life with the artist. 

Mike had stopped thinking of his future in just what _he_ wanted. Instead, Mike had begun to take Will’s desires and dreams into consideration when planning now. Mike knew he always wanted to end up somewhere warm, where little lizards clung to screen doors and it never snowed. But is that what Will wanted? Mike couldn't imagine moving so far away from Will. He wants to be with the artist, wherever he ended up, wanted them to build a life together and… fuck. Did Mike want to _marry_ Will?

That was crazy. It was beyond fucking insane. They’d only known each other a few _months_ (even if it felt like a lifetime) and fuck, Mike hadn’t even graduated yet. Weren’t you supposed to be established in a career and stable before you thought about marriage? When he’d thought about it with El, it had always been some vague, far away idea that seemed years away. Mike would graduate school and he and El would buy a home and get married and have a couple of kids exactly the way Karen and Ted had. The picture perfect American family with a white picket fence and 2.5 children and maybe a dog or something. 

But when he thought about Will… shit, Mike would be willing to run down to the courthouse right now and sign the papers if that’s what Will wanted too. And that was a scary thought. It was crazy, stupid, and _true_. 

Mike drove back to the house, trying to stay calm as he processed all the thoughts and emotions that swam inside him. He _really_ hoped Jonathan would come around and trust him a little, that he’d be able to see Mike as someone worthy of acceptance, and worthy of Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though this wasn't the most exciting chapter, I really enjoyed writing it. Will and Mike needed some nice, loving, supportive interactions with each other and other people after what they've been through and we all know Joyce and Bob was so sweet they rot teeth out. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this break from the angst. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Make sure to take care of yourselves and I'll see you in the next one.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike asks Will a question. The Wheeler's home life get's complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings, other than light angst but come on, you all expect that by now.

Mike wouldn’t say that Jonothan exactly ‘warmed up’ to him after his drive, but at least he treated Mike with polite indifference rather than cool hostility. Apparently, whatever Will had told him during their heart to heart had been satisfactory. In fact, Jonathan had even given Mike a handshake when they left that Sunday. Joyce had hugged them each, telling them not to be strangers and to come home any time. She hadn’t directed it at just Will, she’d said it to Mike too, ‘come home any time’. Mike agreed, pushing down the emotions he felt and actually looking forward to the next time he’d see Will’s family. 

How strange, to actually look forward to a family function rather than dread it. He wondered how common it was, how frequently people actually visited family. He knew Robin and Steve had a bimonthly date to visit Robin’s grandmother and that Lucas and Erica had family dinners every Sunday, but it had never been like that for the Wheelers. Were they the odd ones out? Mike had never thought so but was beginning to have his doubts.

The weekend had been such a welcome break that what Mike found when he returned to Stranger Inks to drop Will off had been a bit of a system shock, an unwelcome reality check. 

He hadn’t even noticed her at first, it had been Will who pointed out the figure curled up on the back steps of the tattoo parlor from where they parked. The pair had approached, apprehensively, unsure of who it was. It wasn’t until Mike had gotten close that he recognized the small, hunched over figure as his sister. 

Holly had burst into tears, clinging to her older brother and apologizing for what had happened. Mike was a little upset at first, but quickly forgave her. She was just a dumb kid, she probably hadn’t thought about the lasting consequences. Holly explained that their father had taken her phone and computer and that she’d tried the coffee shop and they’d told her he quit. Not knowing where else to go, she’d walked across the street, hoping to find him at the parlor but it had been closed. So she waited, not knowing Mike’s address, just hoping a friendly face would show up. 

Will had let everyone in, given Holly something to eat and set her up on the couch to sleep while Mike called Nancy, bypassing his parents entirely. Nancy lived out of town but she could be there in two hours, she’d handle this she assured Mike. Granted, it wasn’t the ideal way for his sisters and Will to meet, but Will took it all in stride, offering everyone snacks and drinks and making pleasantries. He was as gracious as a host as he’d been the first time Mike had been in his home. 

Mike didn’t know he could be so embarrassed, but Will assured him it was fine, he had to meet Mike’s family eventually. Nancy was cordial, if a little distracted by the situation at hand. She was polite and even cracked a smile at the group photo that showed Steve in all his tattooed and pierced glory. Nancy, at least, had her shit together and promised she’d handle both their parents and Holly. Mike was beyond grateful that she decided to take the burden on, so Mike didn’t have to. 

After that incident, things more or less went back to normal. Mike concentrated on school, Will on his work. The seasons changed from sweltering heat to cold, crisp, winter’s air. Mike still hadn't spoken to his father (not that was any different from par to the course) but had touched base with his mother a few times. He told her he was doing well, asked after Holly and found out that Nancy was going to keep her for the time being, had even transferred her to a school in the district where Nancy lived. Karen insisted that Ted hadn't ‘kicked Holly out’ for the procedure (as she had claimed he had) but they all agreed it was better for her if the two of them stayed separated for the time being. Mike kind of thought it must have been Ted’s dream come true, to finally have all his kids out of the house. Ted had never really wanted kids in the first place, had he? That had always been Karen. 

Mike had called Nancy and Holly once to offer support, but Nancy insisted things were fine and she had it all under control. Mike doubted it, his sister wasn’t even thirty yet, how thrilled could she be to have guardianship of a teenager? But Nancy told him not to worry and to concentrate on himself, his own life. So Mike did, throwing himself into school and his relationship with Will.

Speaking of whom, lay half naked on the bed they shared more often than not, dipping the flowers Mike had bought him in warm wax to preserve them. Mike watched Will, watched him dip the witchhazel, the heather, and the lily’s in the wax, holding them upside down until they dried before setting them out on his end table. It was pretty, a creative way to keep the gifts long after they should wilt and wither. 

Mike stretched and rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling in the dim lighting of the room. How long had Will been awake that he’d had not just the thought to dip the flowers in wax, but the time to do it? Mike raised his hands up, holding them out in front of his face and looked at the tattoo on his arm. Mike let his hands fall to his sides and rolled again until he was facing Will. 

“Hey, I was thinking about getting another piece done,” Mike said, watching Will lay another wax flower out on his table. 

“Yeah? What were you thinking? Location? Subject?”

“Back piece.”

“Oh, I like those. Big canvas, nice muscles,” Will said with a grin, looking at Mike and waggling his eyebrows. “I’d love to get you shirtless in my chair, totally at my mercy,” he teased, giving Mike a playful leer. 

“Oh yeah? You've been thinking about getting me undressed and under your needle? Like to see me squirm?”

“All the time,” Will confirmed, still grinning. “What were you thinking about for the subject?”

“I was thinking… maybe sunflowers?” Mike said, a little embarrassed once he voiced it.

“Sunflowers?”

Mike shifted.

“Yeah, I mean, cause of the, uh, that piece you painted on me that first weekend. It was really cool and all…” Mike said, suddenly feeling very foolish. 

“ ‘Adoration, loyalty, longevity’,” Will said, smiling. “I think it’s perfect.”

Will leaned over to Mike, hovering inches away from him, his honey brown eyes sparkling. “You’re kind of a romantic, aren’t you?”

Mike laughed and pressed his forehead against Will’s, so close their noses almost touched. 

“Only for you.”

“I can do the workup this weekend, before D&D,” Will said, kissing the bridge of Mike’s nose. “How big were you thinking?”

“Big,” Mike said, letting his voice get low and gravely, pressing his face against Will’s. 

Will leaned into the touch.

“I thought you had to like the art enough to consider getting something so big done,” Will chided, recalling Mike’s initial consultation.

“Well, turns out I know this guy, _really_ talented artist. I kind of have a crush on him. Anyway, his art is amazing and I wanna absolutely cover myself with it. Think he’ll notice me if I do?” Mike asked, wrapping a hand around Will’s back to draw him closer. 

“Sounds like a plan to me… What time do your classes start?” Will asked as an afterthought. 

“Eight thirty.”

Will glanced over at the clock. It was still early, barely after seven. 

“Plenty of time, then,” he said, crawling on top of Mike, pinning him down. 

“Are you planning on taking up all of my time before class?” Miked asked, faking offense and indignation.

“Yep. Every minute of it,” Will confirmed, smiling. 

**

Mike fiddled with the box in his pocket nervously, cracking it open before snapping it shut again over and over. The box fit neatly in the palm of his hand, just large enough that his fingers couldn’t curl totally around it. In his pocket, his phone buzzed, drawing his attention away from the nervous fiddling. Mike released the box and pulled the phone out, looking at it. 

_Hey, I’m running a little late. Be there as soon as I can. Love you._

_**You’re good, take your time. I’ll see you when you get here. Love you too.** _

Mike settled into the bench to wait, watching the people walk by. The park was surprisingly full despite the cold. A light powdering of snow was coating the ground, finally sticking as it fell in gentle waves from the clouds. Most of the people had come for the ice skating and snow cones, others were simply walking, enjoying the decorations and festive feelings in the air. 

Mike clicked the box again, dragging his finger along the velvet of it. He wanted Will to have a great night, a _perfect_ night, and it started with the park. Mike hadn’t told him, but the taller man had gotten them a room on the riverfront, a reservation at the hotel restaurant. They served things like duck and sweet potato hash with cranberries, fancy shit like that. Mike had heard the head chef had gotten two editorials written about them in Saveur (apparently, or so he’d been told) and it had been a long time since they’d been on a real date. Mike opened the box and closed it again. 

The phone buzzed again and Mike looked at it. Robin this time. 

**Did you do it yet?**

_**No.** _

**Coward**

**_He’s not even here yet_ **

**Boo =(**

**_Sorry to disappoint you._ **

**Steve and I have a bet going. I say you’re actually gonna do it. Steve says you’re gonna chicken out. I’ve got money riding on this, latte boy. Don’t disappoint me =P**

**_Oh well in that case, I’ll be sure to go through with it if for no other reason than I don’t want you to lose a bet. I’m very concerned with your bank account, you know._ **

**There’s my guy. Don’t wimp out.**

**Aye aye captain.**

Mike pocketed the phone and leaned back against the bench, snow dusting the hood of his jacket and shoulders. By the time Will arrived, Mike’s nerves were on fire. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act for this, if it was even _possible_ for him to act normally right now. He snapped the box closed again and bent to catch Will in a kiss when he approached. 

“Hey, you look great,” Mike said, looking Will over.

“I look like crap,” Will laughed, trying to smooth his wind rumpled hair. 

“You look great,” Mike insisted, smiling at the smaller man who shifted under the weight of the gaze, as if he could feel the seriousness of the situation despite Mike not thinking he was giving anything away. 

“Ha, aren’t you sweet,” Will said, averting his eyes and wrapping the scarf he wore more closely around himself. “How’s your back feeling?”

Mike shrugged. It was only two days after his initial session for the piece that would eventually cover his entire back and Will had gotten a lot of work done on it. It was still sore, but a lot better than Mike had expected it to be. It probably didn’t hurt that he had a professional tattoo artist assisting with the after care, keeping it clean and applying lotion as needed. Mike clutched at the box in his pocket before releasing it. 

“I’m good. Come on, you hungry? I got us reservations. It’s not for forty more minutes but we’ll have to hoof it, so we better get moving,” Mike said, glancing around the crowded park. 

“Sounds good,” Will said, shoving his gloved hands into his coat pockets. “Lead the way.”

The walk was fun, almost relaxing. Despite the cold air and falling snow, Mike found himself enjoying it more than he expected. As they walked, the decorations began to be lit, bringing color and light to the surroundings. The pair stopped to watch for a moment, Will’s face brightening as the lights reflected off it. Mike watched Will instead of the lights, enjoying his expressions, how enraptured he was with it all. Mike reached out, taking Will’s gloved hand in his unprotected one. 

Will gave Mike’s hand a squeeze and grinned, watching the kids dance in excitement in the snow and dying light. Mike looked at him, at his peaceful expression and squeezed his delicate, artist’s hand in return, using Will as an anchor as he thumbed at the box in his pocket. Mike clicked it open and closed before finally pulling it from his pocket and holding it loose in his hand. 

“We should go ice skating this year,” Will said, watching the kids play. 

Mike wanted to speak, wanted to confirm Will’s statement, he just couldn’t find his voice. He struggled to find his words, lost in the sight of Will in the multi colored lights. Will was swaying a little, listening to people in the park play for quarters on their violins and guitars, just enjoying the sound. Mike loved him for it, for his ability to focus in and smell the roses as it were. Mike swallowed the lump in his throat and tugged at the petite man’s fingers.

“Hey, Will?”

The shorter man looked over, still smiling. His honey brown eyes were bright in the christmas lights, his grey and blue scarf pulled up over his chin, trying to obscure the smile. Mike tugged at his hand again, drawing Will’s gaze down. When Will’s eyes fell on the black box in Mike’s hand, he looked confused. 

Mike took a breath and turned to face his lover as he fell to one knee in the snow. Still holding Will’s hand, he looked up, heart pounding out of his chest in anxiety and fear, he swallowed hard and focused in on the other man, trying to tune out the people around them, the sounds of his heartbeat in his own ears, and just focus. Yeah, this wasn’t how he’d planned on doing this, but looking at Will right now, with his happy (if confused) expression, Mike took a breath and tried to speak. 

“Mike?” Will asked, eyes wandering from the box in his hand to Mike’s face.

“I love you, Will Byers. I can’t imagine my life without you, I don’t even want to try. What I want is to fall asleep every night to the beat of you breathing and wake up every day with you in my arms. If it was mine to give, I’d gift you the world. I can't do that, but I can give you my life and my heart. I’m not saying that we complete each other, but, I think we accept each other completely, which is more than I ever thought I’d find. Will Byers, would you please do me the honor and kindness of taking me as your partner, forever? Will you marry me?”

Mike felt like he was going to choke, he was absolutely amazed when he didn’t stutter, and his chest felt like it was going to burst from how hard his heart thumped inside it. Will stared at him, open mouthed for what seemed like an eternity. Mike’s pant leg was getting wet from the snow melting beneath him where he kneeled and his mind was screaming in panic. Will closed his mouth and opened it again, eyes watering. 

“Y-Yeah, of course. Of course I’ll marry you,” he laughed, freeing Mike up to breath again. 

Mike pulled the ring out of the box, a rose gold and black zirconium band with white gold detailing. He pulled Will’s glove off sloppily and slipped the ring on. 

“S-sorry. I didn’t know what size you wore, so I got it half a size smaller than mine,” he explained, apologizing. 

“It’s-it’s okay,” Will laughed as the ring slid on easily, a little loose despite Mike’s best efforts. 

Will wrapped his fingers around Mike’s collar, dragging him to his feet and kissed him. Mike heard people murmuring around them. Disapproval? But no, some spoke in excitement while others cooed at the sight. Mike kissed Will with everyone watching and couldn’t have been happier. 

**

They ended up missing their dinner reservation, opting instead to go straight to the hotel room and fall into the bed, staying that way all night. Despite getting very little sleep, both were awake by morning, Will laying on his side, examining the ring. Mike kissed Will’s boney shoulder. 

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“Robin helped me pick it out,” Mike admitted, kissing Will’s shoulder again, feeling the raised scar beneath his lips. “I think she took a little too much pleasure in parading around, making a big show of ring shopping. She had all the clerks and sales people falling all over themselves to help us. Made a big dog and pony show out of the whole thing. She’s pretty embarrassing.”

Will laughed.

“That bitch, she knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Yeah, she’s been texting me all night trying to figure out if I asked you yet.”

Will laughed again, eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“She knew about that too? No wonder she didn’t put up a fight about letting me out early.”

Will rolled onto his stomach and kissed Mike’s knuckles.

“You hungry? We did miss dinner.”

“Check out isn’t until eleven,” Mike pointed out, leaning back against the pillows, eyeing Will suggestively. 

“Listen, as much as I’d love to spend all day in bed with you, I’m pretty sure if we get started we won’t be done by checkout. _I_ think you should buy me breakfast and take me home and we can go from there,” Will said, running his hands through his disheveled hair. 

Mike grinned. He could do that. 

By the afternoon, after Will posted on social media, Mike had half a dozen missed calls and even more texts. Most were from his friends, one from Nancy (how had she even found out?), and two of the missed calls were from his mother. Mike returned the texts from his friends and Nancy, but held off on calling his mom back. Karen could wait. Mike wasn’t going to let her spoil this for him. He might have ignored her entirely if she hadn’t shown up at his door that evening. 

Mike had been relaxing at the townhouse with Will while Dustin worked, watching old horror movies and stuffing themselves with cheap chinese carry out when the knock came. Mike stood, assuring Will that he didn’t have to pause the movie for him and headed to the door. When he pulled it open, Mike froze, staring down at his mother who stood on the doorstep, hands clasped neatly in front of her waist. 

“Mom.”

“Michael. Can we talk?” she asked, looking up at him.

Mike glanced over his shoulder to make sure Will hadn't looked over to see who was at the door before turning back to face his mother. 

“What are you… What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping outside without bothering to get a coat and closed the door behind himself. 

Karen glanced behind Mike as the door shut. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asked, raising a well manicured eyebrow. 

“Uh, I have company,” he said, shifting his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Karen gazed up at her son, face pained. 

“You didn’t return my calls.”

Mike shrugged, tucking his arms around himself, fighting the cold November air. 

“Mike, we have to talk.”

“Okay. So talk.”

“I think you’re making a mistake. Your father is out of his mind. You have to consider what you’re doing,” she said, stepping closer and setting her jaw firmly.

Mike shrugged again and looked at his feet.

“Well, I did consider it. I asked, he said yes. I’m engaged. You know, the customary response is ‘congratulations’, by the way.”

“Michael… Just, say you made a mistake. Apologize and explain you were too hasty. You have to think about your future. Please.”

Mike looked up, staring at his mother. 

“Are you joking?” he asked, a half laugh dying in his throat.

Karen wrung her hands together, still looking at Mike with that pained expression. 

“Please, Michael. Your father says he won’t keep paying for your school, that he won’t let me pay your rent. I just want what’s best for you.”

Mike hesitated. 

“The college account is in my name. Nana set it up when I was born. He can’t deny me access to it.”

Karen looked like she was going to cry and took a step closer to her son. 

“Mike, that account ran out last year. We’ve been paying for your school and living expenses from our retirement account. He can cut you off any time he wants to. He says that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you do this.”

Mike shifted from one foot to another. 

“So I’ll take out student loans, get a grant.”

Karen shook her head in frustration. 

“Do you have any idea how expensive medical school is? You’ll be in debt for _years_. Please, just come home, call off the engagement, and we can fix this. Ted can be reasoned with. He says if you do, he’ll keep paying for school. You can have a future, debt free. Just come home,” she begged, reaching to grab her child’s hands, to make a connection with him.

Behind Mike, the door cracked open. 

“Everything okay? You’ve been out here a while,” Will asked, glancing out. 

Karen leaned to the side to look at him. She took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak. 

“Hello, I’m Karen Wheeler. I’m Mike’s mother. You must be Will. I’m sure you’re a very nice young man, but I need you to talk to my son, make him see reason. Please.”

“Mike?” Will asked, looking at the taller man in confusion. 

Will eased to the side to get a better look at Karen, even extended a hand to her. Karen pushed past Mike, grabbing Will’s extended hand and clutching it hard. 

“Please. Talk to him.”

“Mom, stop,” Mike said, shoving his way between the two. “Can we talk about this later?” he asked, staring at his mother and begging her to shut up. 

“Will you return my calls?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at her son. 

“Yes,” he hissed. “Please, just stop. I swear, I’ll call you later.”

Karen kept her eyes on Mike, trying to evaluate his sincerity. She finally broke eye contact to look past him at Will. She tilted her head in a polite nod. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Will. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Will blinked, confused. 

“Y-you too,” he said, offering a smile. 

Mike ground his teeth. 

“Okay Mom. Look, we have to go. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay,” Karen agreed, gathering herself to leave. “Make sure that you do.”

Mike took a step back, tugging on Will’s sleeve to draw him into the house as well before shutting the door. Mike took a breath before looking at Will who stood quietly with a bewildered look on his face. Mike was shaking a little from the cold (or adrenaline) and he looked away, too embarrassed to meet Will’s eyes. Why did everything about his family have to be so humiliating? Will touched his arm, making Mike’s eyes turn to him. 

“So… uh, your parents aren’t thrilled, huh?” Will asked, offering a tentative smile. 

Mike laughed nervously, looking away again. 

“Not exactly.”

“Well, that’s okay. My mom is over the moon. She wanted to throw us an engagement party when we visited for Thanksgiving. She said it will have to wait till Christmas though since she doesn’t have enough time to call every twice removed cousin I have to invite them before Thanksgiving,” Will said with a laugh, comforting Mike a little. “That is, if we want to go there for Christmas.”

The curly haired man smiled, just a little. 

“Well, I think that it’s a safe bet that your family will be more welcoming than mine. I can’t see us lighting any candles with my parents this year,” he added with a grimace. 

Will reached up, wrapping a hand in Mike’s curls and pulling him down for a kiss. 

“My mom doesn’t practice anymore, but I’m pretty sure she still has a menorah around somewhere. We can still light candles,” the smaller man whispered, stroking his fingers through Mike’s hair. 

Mike sighed, leaning into the touch. 

“How’d I get so lucky to find you?”

Will chuckled, bumping his forehead against Mike’s chin. 

“Your lack of planning and foresight. You walked right into the nearest tattoo parlor, expecting a cover up on the first day. Lucky for me,” Will teased, nuzzling closer to the taller man, trying to relax him.. 

“Incredibly lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the incredibly delayed update and short chapter. I've been really sick and can barely stand to look at a computer screen. Even getting this typed was a massive pain. On the plus side, I've been writing in notebooks and am about five or six chapters in to another story so if I can get myself together, I should be able to get both this one and that typed and posted in a (reasonably) timely manner. 
> 
> I have both the Wheelers and Joyce as Jewish because both Finn and Noah are of Jewish decent and Winona is as well (and I believe still practicing). I hope that doesn't bother anyone. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. I know this chapter was pretty 'meh' but it's honestly because I'm too distracted by the next one and still feeling like hot garbage. So sorry about that. 
> 
> Take care of yourselves. I'll see you in the next one.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Will prepare for the holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic depictions of violence.

Well, if there was one thing Mike couldn’t say his father didn’t have, it was follow through. Ted may have some terrible traits, but at least he always did what he said he would. The notarized letter (how dramatic could you be?) came in the mail three weeks before Christmas, informing Mike of termination of funds. At least Karen had written him a check the week before and given him fair warning. Mike had been given plenty of time to apply for loans long before the letter ever arrived. Even though Mike had laughed about it with his friends, it had hurt. 

Still, despite the loans and grants, Mike worried about paying rent. Will had hushed his fear. 

_‘Just move in with me.’_

So he had. 

Dustin had been really supportive, telling him not to worry. 

_‘Shit, I’m just happy to have my space back. Business has been good, don’t worry about that. Honestly, with the investors, I’m ready for you to get the hell out. Go on, don’t worry. I’ve got this.’_

It was a little strange, moving back in with someone Mike was romantically involved with. Hadn’t that been where everything had gone wrong with El? Still, Will had insisted and Mike could never tell him no. With the holidays looming and the engagement party at Joyce and Bob’s on the horizon, Robin and Steve had insisted on celebrating Christmas early. 

Mike laughed long and hard that night, watching the group get ready. Erica dressed as an elf, including the ears, stockings, hat, and suspenders. Both Steve and Will ended up as reindeer, each with their own set of light up nipple rings so they _really_ matched. Mike had ordered a pair for Will at Robin’s instance and the artist was good natured enough to laugh and put them in without complaint. Robin was a sexy santa, even filling her bag with mini bottles of liquor, complete with bows. 

_‘Merry Christmas, dipshits,’_ she’d said while handing everyone bottle after bottle. _‘You’re all **miraculously** on my nice list this year. Drink up.’_

Mike almost got away with no decorations or costume, but Steve had an abundance of ‘ugly Christmas sweaters’ so he didn’t get off totally unscathed. Will even wove a piece of mistletoe into Mike’s long curls. If there was one thing Mike never thought he’d experience, it was making out with one of the same guys his sister had, but after that night, he knew exactly what it was Nancy had seen in Steve. 

Mike had to admit, he was good. Steve had given him just enough tongue to tease but not enough to be anything more than drunken friends celebrating. Robin had shoved Steve away, planting a wet kiss on Mike herself (just to see what all the fuss was) but Erica had declined with an ‘ew, no’. Will waited patiently, laughing until it was his turn. 

When Mike finally did get to kiss Will, it was gentle, sweet, and frankly, a light show thanks to the nipple rings reflecting off the sequence of Mike’s borrowed sweater. The group had made their way to Mask, all piled into Robin’s car and singing carols at the top of their lungs. 

The whole night was one giant, alcohol fueled party. Thanks to Will and his mistletoe, Mike had more than one overly zealous bar patron kiss him unexpectedly, but Will laughed and told him to just enjoy it, he was only going to be a bachelor for a little while longer. There were (luckily) no arrests that night. Because Erica was too young to drink and had been branded with a giant ‘infant alert!’ stamp on the hand, she couldn’t even if she wanted to. She drove the group home, dropping them off one at a time, starting with Will and Mike. 

Thanks to the nipple rings and the Philips Hue lights Mike had installed when he moved in, the light show and party just continued once they were home. They made the lights dance through the bedroom all night long. 

Mike didn’t know he could be so happy. 

Even with his funds withheld and a mountain of student debt in his future, Mike felt accepted, wanted, and _home_. He never wanted things to go back to how they’d been, never wanted it to end. 

A week before Christmas, two days before their drive to Richmond, Will sat cross legged on the bed across from Mike, wrapping presents. 

“We’re almost out of tape,” Mike commented, adding another strip to the gift in his hands.

“It’s because you’re terrible at this,” Will said, setting down his own immaculately wrapped present and picking up another gift, preparing the scissors to cut through the wrapping paper. 

Mike wrinkled his nose. 

“You should have just let me get the gift bags,” he complained. “Or let me pay the gift wrapping fee at the store.”

Will raised an eyebrow and motioned to the mountain of gifts between them.

“And miss your adorably pathetic attempts at wrapping? Never. In fact, I’m gonna make you do this every year.”

Mike frowned, shoving another corner of the bright, slippery paper down against the box and tapped it there. 

“Maybe in six or seven years I’ll be so good that we only need one roll of tape but for now,” he said, holding up the now depleted roll, “We need more.”

Will sighed and sat back, examining what was left to do. It was a lot. 

“Is the corner store still open?”

“Yeah, I think they’re twenty four hour now,” Mike said, shoving his poorly wrapped present towards the pile of completed gifts. 

Hopefully Joyce wouldn’t care that it looked like it had been wrapped by a three year old. Maybe she’d find it endearing. 

“I can head over there, grab some more. You still wanna get this done tonight?” he asked, glancing over at Will. 

“Yeah, I’d rather have all day tomorrow to pack and not have to worry about this. And I can go, by the way. I could use a walk,” Will said, rolling his head and shoulders to stretch them.

“You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Will confirmed, unfurling his legs and scooting towards the edge of the bed to stand. “I need to get some circulation going.”

“Take the car. It’s too cold to be walking around this time of night. Plus, I’m pretty sure no one has salted the sidewalks in like, three days. Keys are in my jacket pocket,” Mike said, yawning. 

Will nodded, padding over to the walk in closet where they kept all their clothes and pulled Mike’s jacket out. He slipped it on, zipping it up and pulled the hood up over his head. It was a little big on him, the face guard covering everything up to his nose. Will fumbled with the pocket, searching for the keys but finally extracted them, holding them up in triumph. Mike grinned at him. 

“I said take the keys, not the whole coat.”

“I like yours better. It’s more comfortable than mine. Plus it has all that fuzzy stuff in the lining.”

Mike chuckled, leaning back to extend his legs and yawned again. Will bent, picking up his shoes. 

“You need anything else from the store? Coffee?”

Mike considered the question for a moment before shaking his head.

“Not really. Just the tape, I think.”

Will huffed, unsatisfied with that answer. 

“Is there anything you _want_? Any kind of snack I can get you?”

“Maybe salt and vinegar chips? If it doesn’t bug you.”

Will chuckled, bending to kiss Mike.

“I think I can manage that.”

Mike watched Will turn, watched him move towards the bedroom door and turn the corner, vanishing into the hall. Mike sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the apartment door open and close, reveling in the thought that it was actually _theirs_ now, their shared place. The blue and brown bedding that Will always used had been switched out for Mike’s green set since it was warmer, and the closet held both sets of their clothes. Mike’s furniture that didn’t fit into the apartment had been moved into one of the empty rooms of Stranger Inks, tucked away for the time being. 

_‘We can pull it all out once we get a bigger place,’_ Will had said. 

He was already thinking about the two of them getting a new place together, already fretting over credit scores and mortgage rates and down payments. Mike smiled to himself, envisioning it, planning out the future. Did Will like modern architecture or did he prefer colonial? Did he want a finished basement or a wrap around porch? Mike shifted when he heard the apartment door open again. He stretched one more time before rolling to his side and getting to his feet, padding towards the bedroom door, his socks making static against the carpet. 

“Did you forget something?” Mike called, rounding the corner from the bedroom to the hall, still rubbing his eyes to chase away the tired feeling he had. 

He stopped, frozen in place and let out a puff of air in surprise and pain. Mike felt like he’d been punched and _really hard_ at that. He blinked in surprise as another blow landed, higher this time and more centered on his stomach, rather than low and near his hip. Mike let out a strangled sound and looked down to where he’d been hit, where the pain radiated from, too distracted to look at the person in front of him. 

Was that a knife? Had Mike been _stabbed_? He blinked in confusion again and brought his hand to the thing protruding from his stomach, touching it for clarification. 

Yeah, that was a knife and it was buried in Mike’s gut. He looked up, confused at the person who held the blade, eyes having trouble focusing. The person’s face was obscured by a ski mask but brown eyes met green as Mike tilted his head, brain trying to catch up to what his body felt. 

“W-What…?” he asked, taking a stumbling step back as the blade was pulled from his stomach, cutting his fingers where they had been touching it. 

Mike fell forward, grabbing the person who held the knife by the jacket with bleeding hands as he stumbled. He lost his grip when the person stepped away and Mike fell to his knees and then stomach, hands moving to clutch at the wounds there. 

“Shit. God damnit,” the man above him cursed, taking another step back and away from Mike. “What the fuck, I saw you leave,” the voice hissed. 

Mike rolled his eyes up, trying to focus on what the fuck was going on. He kicked his legs, trying to find footing to push himself up with but his legs felt heavy, like they were filled with lead. His sock covered feet slipped against the carpet, not managing to get any traction. What the hell was going on? One minute Mike was doing a piss poor job of wrapping presents and the next he was on the floor, _stabbed_ , and trying to stand back up. 

He coughed, letting out another low sound of pain as he felt hot, sticky blood on his fingers and winced when he pressed them against the tender, open wounds on his stomach. Ok. The first one was by the hip, maybe hitting his appendix or large intestine? The second had been higher, had a better chance of hitting something more vital. The knife hadn’t looked particularly long, what kind of damage could it really do? Mike pressed his hands against both wounds, trying to staunch the bleeding and force his foggy mind to be calm. Above him, the man crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet and resting his hands on his knees. The knife flashed, reflecting the hall light even as drops of Mike’s life giving blood fell from it. 

“Shit. Sorry, man. Hey, can you hear me?”

Mike panted, craning his neck as far back as he could so he could look at his attacker. The man looked down at him, face still obscured by the mask and grinned. 

“Cool, you can hear me.”

_You didn’t stab me in the ear, idiot._

“Hey, listen. I want you to know this isn’t personal. You weren’t even supposed to be here. Like I said, I thought I saw you leave, ya dig? Sorry about this.”

Mike furrowed his brow, squeezing his eyes closed as he tried to process this. Okay, this was planned. Was it a home invasion gone wrong? No. The person had been armed. Why arm yourself if you weren’t planning on hurting anyone? Okay, so the man had thought Mike was gone but had planned on hurting someone, so it had to have been Will who was the intended target. Mike groaned as one boot nudged him, pushing him over onto his side so the other man could look at him more fully. 

“Shit, that looks like it hurts. Does it hurt, Mikey? Sorry about that. You startled me and you’re taller than him.”

Mike glared, clenching his teeth in anger and he wanted to spit at Zach. What the fuck. He hadn’t gotten any texts or messages in months. What the fuck had made Zach act now? How the hell did he get in? (Will was terrible about locking the door...)

“I can finish you quick, if you want. Will though, that little bitch is gonna suffer. Now that I’m not on a time constraint thinking you’re on your way back here, I can do whatever I want, right? I have all the time I need now. So, happy accidents I guess. Should I cut out all those ugly fucking piercings he has? He looked a lot better without them, don’t you think?”

Mike felt a bubble of rage, that little blossom of anger rising, then fear. If Will hadn’t offered to go instead of Mike, would it be him laying on the floor now, bleeding out? If he hadn’t taken Mike’s coat or had decided to walk, would Zach have followed him? Grabbed him and dragged him into an alley and killed him while Mike was laying around, thinking about mortgages and wrap around porches? Fuck, was he going to get killed the moment he came home with tape and coffee and snacks?

No, fuck that. Will was fast and agile and he could outrun this piece of shit if he was made aware of the danger. Mike just had to find some way to let him know, something Will would notice the moment he walked in the door. 

Mike tried to push himself up again only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down into the curled position around his stomach. 

“Ah, come on, don’t do that. Just hold still, okay? I have to move you so Will doesn’t see you when he walks in and ruin the surprise.”

Mike saw Zach stand, watched him walk around to Mike’s uselessly heavy feet and felt Zach grab him by the ankle. Mike was dragged back unceremoniously, leaving a dark streak on the hall carpet but not dark enough to stand out against the coal color of the floor. Mike was pulled out of the hall, his hands ineffectually grabbing at the door frame before slipping and was dragged into the bedroom where he was deposited on the floor. Under the bed, Mike heard a low growl and met eyes with Little Mama who swished her tail in agitation. The grey tabby lowered her body to the floor, pressing flat against it and hissed softly when Zach stepped around the bed, back into Mike’s view. 

Zach was walking around the room, examining it, looking at the most intimate shared space Mike and Will had. He paused at the presents and looked down at Mike. 

“Anything here for me? No? That sucks.”

Mike moved his hand, letting himself bleed more freely so he could search for his phone in his pocket while Zach was distracted, moving around the room, still examining it. He managed to pull the phone free and squeezed it, trying his best to activate the emergency setting, call the police. It was hard. His hands were slippery and felt like jello. Mike knew this feeling. He was going into shock again. Behind him, Zach tsked. 

When the foot came down on his wrist, Mike hissed and released the phone. Zach kicked it away, under the bed, causing Little Mama to spit and move more fully under it, seeking shelter. 

“Come on, did you think that would work?” Zach asked, crouching next to Mike again. “You’re not getting out of here, Bud. Hey, you never answered me. You want me to get it over with or did you wanna stick around till Will gets back, watch the show?”

Mike glared at Zach, mouth still open in a pant, He wanted to scream, to grab Zach and throttle him and strangle the life out of him. He wanted to call Will and tell him not to come home, to get to safety. He wanted to go back to an hour ago when they had been wrapping presents and debating on which stupid fucking bows went on what, what matched best. Mike wanted to go back there, to tell Will it didn’t matter and to call it a night and fall asleep holding each other and watching bullshit on Youtube. 

Mike glared at Zach, at his smug fucking face under the mask and Mike wanted it to be over. He hated how helpless he felt, how heavy and useless and out of focus he was. Mike lowered his gaze, eyes heavy and let his cheek rest against the carpet as he listened for the sound he dreaded most: his car pulling into the carport. Mike was tired. He’d lost enough blood now that he was pliant as Zach shifted him more fully onto his stomach, exposing his back. 

“Hey. Again, Bud, this isn’t personal. Well, maybe a little.”

Mike jerked when he felt the knife plunge in again, felt it scrape and catch against his ribs. Fuck, that hurt. Mike tried to gasp but ended up coughing, blood leaving his mouth as he did. Oh, his lung was punctured and collapsing. He couldn’t breathe, at least not well. Blood pooled on his tongue as he wheezed in wet, shaky breaths as Mike tasted copper. 

He closed his eyes. He’d never be able to light candles with Will now, never be able to exchange vows or share a last name. Mike hoped Will didn’t make it home, that he got a flat tire and had to pull over and wait for Triple A. Mike just wanted him safe and well. Mike exhaled and let the darkness take him. 

**

Mike was warm, and tired, and heavy. He didn’t feel much, not really; mostly he felt numb. He opened his eyes and blinked at the white tile above him, listened to the faint hum and buzz of the machines, the beeps and clicks of it all. Mike tried to turn his head but there was something in his throat, choking him. 

Mike twisted, trying to sit up, to pull the ventilator out, but he could barely do more than thrash and fight his initial panic. 

“Hey, hey, calm down. It’s okay. Nurse? Nurse? Can we get some help in here?”

Mike couldn’t breath, his chest burned and he thrashed again, trying desperately to remove the device that intruded on him, on his throat. After a moment, two nurses came into view. One held him down, tried to calm him while another told him to exhale while she pulled the ventilator out of him, removed the tape and pulled the mouth guard free. Mike coughed, lungs still burning in pain as strong hands pushed against his shoulder, urging him to be still. Christ, how long had he been intubated? Mike blinked up and stared at Steve who grinned down at him from behind the nurses. 

“Hey Mike. Take it easy, okay? That tube was in there a while, nurses said you were gonna feel weird when it came out. You okay?”

Mike tried to speak but his throat ached, his mouth was so dry. His lips felt chapped and he licked them, trying to wet his mouth. He tried to raise a hand but it felt numb and heavy, like a bag of sand. 

“Hey, you want some water? Is that okay, can he have some?” Steve asked, looking to the nurses who confirmed it was okay. 

“Thanks,” Steve said, scooting his rolling chair closer to Mike’s side and offered him a cup with a straw. 

Mike took a drink, staring at Steve, silently begging him to explain what happened, what was going on. Steve seemed to understand the look and began speaking while he helped Mike hold the cup between his shaky hands. 

“Okay, so you’re on pain management right now, so you might be a little out of it. Pretty sure they gave you the good stuff. Try not to drop the cup, okay? You’ve been out for four days.”

Mike swallowed hard, trying to clear his swollen throat enough to speak. 

“What? Four days? Where’s Will?” he asked, voice sounding raspier than he expected it to from how swollen it was.

“You’re at the hospital. Will’s at my place with his mom. He’s _fine_ ,” Steve assured Mike to his great relief. “He just needed some sleep. Poor kid’s been here or at the police station for days, we practically had to drag him out the door. We’ve been taking turns staying with you, but Will’s barely left at all other than to be interviewed by the cops. It was me and Nancy last night. Don’t worry, nothing got rekindled, I can see that look in your eye. Totally professional. Nancy left to get coffee with your folks. Holly’s grown up a lot, huh? Want me to call them?” Steve asked, giving Mike a smile while he settled back into his chair. 

“The rest of your friends have been by too, taking turns sitting vigil and what not. Lot’s of tears, very dramatic. They uh, they brought you a bunch of flowers and balloons and shit,” Steve continued, motioning to the table and desk which were, indeed, filled with gifts and ‘get well soon’ cards. 

“What… the hell happened?” Mike rasped, throat still screaming from being intubated for so long. 

“You don’t remember? You were attacked, stabbed three times,” Steve said, holding up three fingers for emphasis, “and had to have a few surgeries. I think it was like, nineteen hours total. Had part of your small intestine removed. Doc said something about a special diet or caloric intake or something, your parents don’t talk to me. Fuck, doctors wouldn’t even talk to Will but Nacy’s been passing along information, God bless her. Crazy shit.”

“It was Zach.”

“I know. He’s in custody.”

“Where’s my phone? I need to call Will,” Mike said, craning his neck to look around.

“Oh, here, use mine. They uh, they took yours for evidence,” Steve said, handing the device over to Mike who almost dropped it, still feeling clumsy and numb. 

It took more than one try to punch in Will’s number, but Mike internally cheered when it began to ring. 

“Hello?” a female voice answered on the fourth ring. “Steve? Everything okay?”

“Mrs. Newby? It’s Mike.”

“Oh! Oh Mike honey! You’re awake! Bob! Mike’s awake! How are you doing, hun? Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Ma’am. Is… is Will there?”

“Yeah, of course! Give me one second, okay hun? Bob! Can you wake up Will?”

Mike listened to the sounds of shuffling on the other end of the phone as a doctor and new nurse entered the room. He sat forward, answering their questions and letting them examine him, check his vitals, his oxygen levels. His eyes immediately began to water when he heard Will’s voice, thick with sleep. 

“Mike?”

“H-hey. Will.”

“You okay? When did you wake up?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Steve’s letting me use his phone.”

“I’m getting dressed right now. I’m gonna be there as soon as I can. Are you alright? Do you need me to call Nancy? Your mom?”

“Uh, no, don’t worry about that. Are _you_ okay? What happened? Did he attack you?”

“No no, by the time I got back to our place the cops were already there.”

Mike felt his heart swell at that. Will was fine and he was safe. How had the cops gotten there so fast? Had Mike actually been successful in trying to activate the emergency setting of his phone?

“How… how did they beat you there?”

“The security system Robin installed is set to automatically call the cops if the back door is left open for longer than five minutes. Cops said Zack left the door open, probably because he thought he’d just be in and out, but it triggered the alarm. I’m putting my shoes on now,” Will mentioned, voice muffled a little, probably because he was using his shoulder to balance the phone instead of his hands. 

Mike wished he was here now, he was the only person Mike wanted to see. Mike cleared his throat, fighting back the emotions he felt. 

“What time will you be here?”

“Steve’s place isn’t far. Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll be there soon. Hey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mike whispered, disconnecting the call and handing the phone back to Steve. “Hey, is that offer to call my parents still on the table?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Thanks.”

“You want me to stay? You wanna be left alone for a while?”

“If that’s okay…”

“Totally. I got you. Don’t worry, I’ll handle the folks for you. I’m gonna call them and Robin and let them know you’re okay, but I’ll be back, alright? Anyone else you want me to call?”

“Yeah man, um, can you call my buddy Dustin? I can write the number down for you. I’m sure he’ll call the rest...”

Steve waved a hand, dismissively. 

“I’ve got his number. When we heard what happened, we all got together and exchanged numbers so whoever was with you when you woke up could call everyone else. Like those elementary school emergency call chain things. I’ve got you covered.”

Steve stood, offering Mike another wave before pulling the phone to his ear to listen for whoever it was he’d called to answer.

Mike watched Steve go, watched him disappear from the room and let out a shaky breath. Zach was in custody, Will would be there soon. Shit, even his sisters and parents would be by before too long. Mike lay back and waited, knowing he would have to talk to the police and answer their questions and help build a case against Zach. The next few days were going to be hectic. Mike turned his head and looked out the window, watching the snow fall in the bright white light of day, amazed he was seeing it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a rough ride emotionally and I hope you enjoyed every moment of this roller coaster, because it's the last chapter I've got prepared. Don't get me wrong, I know what's going to happen, I just haven't written it yet. I'm back to work starting today. Don't worry guys, it wasn't COVID that had me so sick, just pneumonia! I'm not going to have a ton of time to write right now (today I work open to close and am the only bartender on duty. Pray for me y'all) so I'm sorry about that. Gotta hustle and make up that lost money. On the plus side, while I was sick and delusional with fever I got like six chapters of 'I know why the caged bird sings' written and just have to type them so at least I'll still be trying to put out content even if it isn't for this story. I need to get my shit together. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Take care of yourselves and be well.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike finally tells the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobic language

It took approximately forty five minutes after waking up for Mike to wish he was unconscious again. Mike had hoped Will would arrive first but (as was typical of his luck) the entirety of the Wheeler family had only gone to the cafeteria for their coffees and were back in the room less than fifteen minutes after Steve left it. Karen, Nancy, and Holly at least all had the emotional intelligence to go to Mike, embrace him, offer hugs, kisses, and tears, the works. Karen spent special time stroking his hair and telling him she loved him but Ted simply looked at him, cleared his throat, and said ‘well this is quite the mess you’ve gotten yourself in, isn’t it?’. 

Mike lay in the bed listening to his parents talk to the resident on his case while Nancy and Holly holed up in chairs next to him. Nancy was unusually affectionate, rubbing his arm and offering water while Holly sullenly texted her friends. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad until Will arrived, that seemed to be the catalyst for Ted. Well, maybe not his arrival, but definitely the kiss. 

Will looked like shit; his hair was a mess, his eyes were puffy and dark, and his clothes were rumpled from sleep, but he was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen. Will had slipped into the room, squeezed past the doctor and Ted while Joyce and Bob trailed behind him. Will didn’t seem to see anyone, didn’t have any trouble making his way past them until he was practically in Nancy’s lap so he could hug and kiss Mike like they hadn’t seen each other in years. In retrospect, that was probably what did it, set Ted off. The _idea_ of his son sharing a life and a bed with another man was one thing (and it was bad enough in Ted’s mind) but actually _seeing_ it was too much. 

“For God’s sake, is that necessary? He just woke up, he doesn’t need you crawling all over him and pawing at him like an animal. You’re going to rip his stitches out and don’t you think you’ve done enough already?”

Will winced and withdrew to stand next to Nancy, face red. Nancy reached out and gripped Will by the wrist, keeping him from backing up further while she glared at her father, face pinched. 

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler-”

“-Hey, calm down. This is the first time the boys have been able to see each other after the incident, let them have a moment,” Joyce cut in, staring at Ted, baffled by his reaction. 

“ _’The Incident’?_ Do you mean the _attempted murder_ of _my son_ which never would have happened if he hadn’t gotten entangled with _your’s_? It’s _his_ fault my son almost died, isn’t the least he can do is keep his hands off my boy when he’s laying in a hospital bed trying to recover?” Ted asked, glaring daggers at Joyce, at this stranger who had inserted herself, had contradicted him. 

“Hey, that’s a bit of an extreme view, isn’t it? Will didn’t cause this-”

“-Oh, of course not. He made all the right choices in life and did nothing wrong, has no responsibility in what happened to my son?” he asked, eyes dark. “Why are you here anyway? This is a _family_ matter.”

“Ted…”

“Dad!”

“ _Excuse me_? What are you trying to say?”

Mike froze, totally immobilized by the scene that was unfolding. Joyce looked furious, beyond outraged by the implication that this was in some way _Will’s_ fault. Will himself had wilted, tucked his shoulders and tried to take a step back to hide behind Nancy who had both her hands locked on both Mike and Will’s wrists. Bob had his hands raised as he tried to calm the situation while Karen held her husband’s arm in the same vice like grip her daughter had on Mike and Will. Holly was frozen as well, phone half raised, eyes focused but unmoving over the screen. 

This was a nightmare. Mike wanted to scream, to tell absolutely everyone except for Will to get the fuck out and leave him alone but he couldn’t even bring himself to speak. Instead, he watched in growing horror as Joyce got more upset, Will shrank more, and Ted fumed. His chest hurt, felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe right (a complication with the punctured lung?), and he tried to speak but couldn’t. He wanted to tell Ted to get out, tell him that Will _was_ his family, his _chosen_ family (Mike was stuck with Ted out of blood and obligation). Where was his voice? Why couldn’t he find it? Luckily, the resident had no such qualms. 

“Okay, I need this room clear. I have to examine my patient and I can’t concentrate with this room so crowded. He needs rest and if you can’t offer that, I need you to _get out_. One, _maybe_ two of you can stay. That’s it. The rest of you, get out.”

_Thank you._

Will shifted, like he was going to try and retreat but Nancy held him firm as she got to her feet. 

“Stay. I’ll handle them,” she said, looking at her parents. “Mom. Dad, let’s go.”

“I’m not leaving, that’s my _son_ -”

“-Dad, you’re not helping. You’re upsetting Mike and frankly you’re upsetting me too. Let’s go,” she said, voice low in warning. 

“You know what? I think it’s a good idea. I think everyone needs to just get some air,” Bob agreed, still lightly holding Joyce to keep her from clawing the eyes right out of Ted’s head. “We’re all pretty emotional right now. Let’s just give the kids some time together, some privacy.”

“Excuse me, I don’t even know who you are,” Ted started, turning his attention to Bob now. “How does this involve you, exactly?”

“Ted. Stop it,” Karen pleaded, adding her voice to her daughter’s as she tightened her grip on her husband’s arm. “You’re exhausted. You don’t need to talk to them like that.”

Ted looked like he wanted to keep arguing but Nancy cut him off. Thank god for Nancy. Thank god for her firm handling of Ted and her stubborn nature and how effectively she cleared the room. Karen looked like she wanted to linger but settled on a quick kiss on Mike’s forehead before turning away (had she touched Will’s shoulder on her way out or had Mike imagined that?). Once the room was clear, Mike turned to Will. He was still slumped a little in the chair, shoulders pulled in around himself and his head was bent low. Mike twisted, trying to turn to look at the other man while still being mindful of his own injuries as the resident busied himself with the IV drip and charts. 

“Hey, Will, you okay? I’m sorry about that, about my d… Ted.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Will said, not looking up. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know your parents would be so upset that I came. They were really polite before… Um, when you were in surgery and when you were out.”

Mike grimaced. 

“Don’t apologize for Ted. He’s an asshole. Just, just ignore him, okay?” Mike said, wishing desperately that he could take his own advice. “Fuck him,” he added with a pained laugh. “C’mere. You can manhandle me all you want.”

Will finally looked up, unsure. His eyes and cheeks were red from repressing whatever emotion it was that he felt. Mike patted the bed and shifted his weight to make room on the cramped mattress before glancing over at the resident.

“Is that okay?”

The resident turned his eyes away from the monitors to look at the pair. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Just don’t yank anything loose. I don’t need a code called just because a wire got ripped out,” he said with a shrug, looking back at the chart that hung at the foot of the bed. 

Mike looked back to Will and patted the bed again. 

“You heard the man. It’s all good. So, c’mere.”

Will hesitated a moment longer before standing from his seated position in the chair Nancy had forced him into. It took some urging, some negotiation, but Mike eventually got Will into the bed with him, careful to make sure all the tubes and lines were well out of the way. Will curled against him, head resting on Mike’s shoulder, his hand pressed against the taller man’s chest. Mike glanced at the resident who’d taken a seat across the room, pen tapping against the clipboard he held.

“Is there anything you need from me?” Mike asked, worried that he was inconveniencing the doctor. 

The resident looked up again and shrugged. 

“No, you’re fine. I didn’t actually need to examine you, I just assumed you’d like some time away from your families. But uh, if you want me to go I could. Of course, that would let the wolves back in. I can just stay and work on my charting for a while to keep them at bay. Unless you want them back?”

Mike laughed and immediately regretted it because of the pain it caused. 

“No, no. Stay. Unless we’re keeping you from something?”

“Not at all. I can stay until visiting hours are over which is in….” the man glanced at his watch, “twenty minutes. So just ignore me. I’m not even here.”

It was easier said than done. Even though the resident was quiet, the pen barely making a sound against the paper, Mike couldn’t relax. The cops would be by eventually, his parents would be back, and Will was hurting from what had been said. Mike shifted and ran a hand over Will’s thin shoulder, trying to comfort him. The small artist moved a little, leaning into the touch and Mike felt Will try to clear his throat to speak. 

“I was scared. I thought you might die,” he finally said, voice small. 

“Hey, I’m okay,” Mike said, pressing his nose against Will’s hair, breathing him in. 

“I know I just… when I got home and the cops were everywhere… and an ambulance…”

“Hey, I’m fine. It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. I’m fine, I’m gonna be _fine_.”

Will shrugged and buried his head deeper into Mike’s shoulder, seeking shelter. 

“Do you blame me too?”

The question was so soft Mike almost didn’t hear it. He was so taken off guard by the question he didn’t answer at first. A mistake Mike knew as he felt Will bury himself further, trying to make himself even smaller than he already was. When he felt Will shrink again, Mike twisted and pressed his lips firmly to the other man’s forehead in what was less than a kiss so much as it was a show of protection.

“No. No, of course not. You didn’t do anything. It was Zach.”

“I know. I know I didn’t hold the knife but… You’re dad’s right. If you hadn’t met me it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hey, no. _You didn’t do anything_. Zach did. He’s a psycho. I’m glad he’s in custody and if I had to take a hit for the team to get him there,” Mike shrugged. 

Will shifted again, choosing not to speak. 

“I’m serious, Will. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You… You wanted me to go to the police. You asked me to, months ago. I- I’m sorry. I should have listened… If I’d just listened and done what you said…”

Mike stilled, heart thumping uncomfortably. He had evidence stored on his phone, plenty of it. Nothing had stopped him from going to the police himself (other than his own dishonesty and fear of Will not forgiving him). Zach had wanted to kill Will, had _tried_ to kill Mike. Will shouldn’t bear the guilt, not when Mike’s poor decision making had contributed to it. 

“Hey um… I need to talk to you” he said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Will moved, tilting his head back to look at the taller man beneath him. 

“What is it?”

Mike glanced at the resident who was still hunched over his notes, not paying them any attention. 

“Mike?”

“Did they… did they say what, uh, set Zach off? Why he uh, did what he did?”

_Coward. Don’t change the subject._

“Oh uh… I don’t know. I didn’t ask and um, they didn’t offer the information,” Will said with a shrug. “Robin thinks it’s because of um… Because of the engagement. Maybe. Because um… he was such a control freak, you know? But I don’t know. Like I said, the cops haven’t said anything,” Will trailed off, looking back down. 

Well fuck. That… that wasn’t what Mike wanted to hear. 

“Will… I… I need…”

Will craned his neck again to see Mike better. 

“I… I should have gone to the police too.”

Will chuckled and rested his head against Mike again. 

“And say what? ‘Hey, there’s this asshole who used to beat up my boyfriend but I have no evidence and my boyfriend won’t talk about it. Arrest him please?’ You know, maybe if you said it _real_ nice they would have done something? Yeah, that would have worked.”

Mike swallowed hard, felt himself go tense.

“I… I have evidence.”

“The stories and scars from a self mutilator with a criminal record won’t hold up. Besides, I wouldn’t have gone to the cops to be examined and photographed anyway. So unless you had something else it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Will. I… Zach he… he sent me messages,” Mike whispered, stomach plummeting as he felt Will go still against him. 

“What? What do you mean? What kind of messages? Death threats?”

Mike struggled to find his voice, to find the courage he needed to own this, admit his mistakes and just… finally be honest. 

“N-no. Like… Photos. And a video,” he breathed, mouth dry, heart thudding heavily. 

Will didn’t speak at first, didn’t even move. 

“What do you mean? What kind of photos? What _video_ did he send you?”

Was there more than one?

Mike swallowed again, trying to force himself to speak. 

“They were of you. He was… hurting you,” Mike managed to croak out, in too deep now to back peddle no matter how badly he wanted to. 

_Please say something._

But Will didn’t. He didn’t do _anything_ , just stayed still and quiet for a very, very long time. Mike wanted to give him all the time he needed to think, to process what he’d been told, but it was difficult. Mike eventually broke the silence. 

“Will…”

“How long?”

“What?” 

“How long has he been messaging you? How long have you been _talking_ to him? Was it one time? An ongoing conversation? How long have you been keeping this from me?” Will asked, still unmoving, still deathly still. 

Mike didn’t want to answer the questions. He wanted to backtrack, to lie. He couldn’t. 

“Months,” he breathed. “A few messages. It wasn’t a conversation, not exactly. I kept blocking him and he kept making sock puppet accounts and alternate accounts and-”

Will moved, started to detach himself from the taller man and stand. 

“Will, please,” Mike whispered, reaching to take his hand. 

“Don’t touch me, please. Not right now. Just, don’t touch me, okay?”

Mike let his hand drop. 

“Will, _please_.”

“Why the fuck… would you keep this from me?” Will whispered, eyes locked on Mike’s face, demanding answers, an explanation. 

That word… _fuck_... Will didn’t cuss, not often at least. He was furious. He’d never forgive Mike. The curly haired man licked his lips, trying to decide on his words. 

“I… I didn’t want to hurt you. I just, I didn't want you to know he’d done that, I didn’t want you to know he’d invaded your privacy and shared something like that and I… He was just trying to upset me, provoke me or something. I didn’t want it to upset you too. Please, Will, I… I wanted to _protect_ you from that.”

Will looked at him, standing now and still pulled away. He looked cold and unreadable and so… so _done_.

“Please, please forgive me. I’m so sorry, I should have told you. I’m so sorry, please. I wanted to tell you but you’re so fragile and I didn’t want to hurt you and-”

“-Fragile? What do you think I am? A child? I knew he had the photos, the videos. I knew they existed. He’s probably posted them all over the internet. Revenge porn, sadistic websites, wherever he could. Did you think I didn’t know that?” Will asked, honey brown eyes cold. “You lied to me. Why? Because you thought I was _fragile_?”

“I… I didn’t _lie_.”

“By omission. You lied to me, Mike. I need to think.”

“Will, please don’t leave,” Mike asked, knowing he didn’t have the right to but doing it anyway.

“Visiting hours are almost over anyway. I have to go.”

Mike felt the first pricks of pain in his nose, in the corner of his eyes. 

“Will…”

“Mike, I cannot have this conversation with you right now. I have to go, I have to think. I can’t think with you looking at me like that. I don’t want to yell, I don’t want to fight, but if I stay in this room with you _looking at me_ like that, after violating my trust and _lying_ to me… I’m going to yell. I don’t want to do that, so I have to go,” he explained, voice even and too low for the resident to hear. “I’m not going to freak out, I’m not going to abandon you, I just… I have to leave this room until I figure out what I’m feeling.”

“Will, I should have told you. I know that, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, I didn’t do it to hurt you,” Mike said, desperate to reiterate his reasoning, so Will didn’t get it twisted as him just wanting to have something he could use as a weapon later, something to hold over Will’s head and use to control him in some way. 

“I know. I know that, Mike. I just can’t be here and I can’t look at you right now. I’ll be back later though, okay?”

Mike wanted to grab him, to beg Will not to leave. He wanted to hold the shorter man still and make him just _hear Mike out_ but he couldn’t do that. Mike couldn’t take away any more agency from Will than had already been taken from him. He swallowed and tried to control his breathing and just not panic. Will was reasonable, he’d understand. He just needed time to process what Mike told him and he’d be back, he promised he would. They could talk this out. Mike shifted and looked over at the resident who was politely pretending to have not heard any of their conversation (and maybe he hadn’t, Will had never raised his voice and Mike couldn’t relax his throat enough to speak at more than a whisper). 

“Will, when the cops come, what should I tell them? Should I tell them about the… the stuff Zach sent me? Could they use that as evidence in their case? Are you even _okay_ with me … with someone else seeing that?”

Will paused, hovering next to the door. 

“Like I said, it’s probably all over the internet anyway. If it helps put him away for longer… Yeah, tell them. I suppose they’d need to see it.”

“Will, I love you,” Mike whispered, silently adding a plea for Will to turn around, just _look at him_. 

“I… I’ll be back,” Will said as he pulled the door open and slipped out, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts and the sounds of beeping monitors. 

**

Will didn’t come back for almost two full days and with Mike’s phone still cataloged away as evidence in a forensics lab somewhere (who knew how long it would be until he got it back) he was limited in his options for contacting Will. He called from the hospital phone, left messages, told Will when he was scheduled to be discharged (would he be allowed back home? To their apartment?), and told him he loved him. Mike asked Robin, begged Steve for any information but neither of them would say much other than Will was tired and and busy having the apartment cleaned and re-carpeted. 

Had Will told them what happened? Neither acted any differently towards Mike, both still coming to visit and cheer him up. It wasn’t until Mike was getting ready to be discharged that Will reappeared. 

Mike’s heart felt like it was beating out of it’s rhythm and his stomach twisted into knots as Will entered the room. His fine brown hair was brushed back and the grey cardigan he wore was tucked tightly around himself. Mike wanted to get up, to go to him, but didn’t know how he’d be received, so he waited. It was a relief when Will moved to stand next to him, near but not touching, as if he still hadn’t decided whether or not he’d forgiven Mike. Mike didn’t want to look away from the smaller man but he shifted his gaze to his parents who’d been visiting, ready for his discharge from the hospital. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler,” Will said, offering a polite smile. 

“Will,” Karen greeted, nodding at him while Ted made a non committal sound of some kind. 

Will shifted, turning his attention to Mike for the first time since he’d entered. 

“Are you ready?”

Was Will inviting him back home? Mike felt himself relax, just a little. He really hadn’t been looking forward to asking his parents to take him back to Dustin’s, having to explain _why_ he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to go back to the tattoo parlor. His heart lifted and he felt light. 

“He’s ready. Did you want to help him to the car?” Karen asked, eyebrow quirked. 

Will looked at her, expression calm and serene. 

“If you’re asking if I’d like help getting Mike to his car so I can drive him home, I appreciate the offer,” Will responded, still calm but a little challenging. 

Mike felt his own eyebrows raise and he glanced at the shorter man. That was an awfully snarky reply, deliberately ignoring the implication that Mike would be going with his parents and instead turning the question around on them. Ted snorted in annoyance. 

“Is that a joke? Mike is coming home with us, where he belongs.” Ted said as he straightened his glasses. 

Will turned his attention from Karen to the other man. 

“No, he’s coming home, with me, to _our_ apartment.”

 _Our_ apartment? Did that mean Will forgave him?

“Will, is that such a good idea? All the trauma he suffered there…” Karen said, looking at her son before glancing back at the small artist. “It just seems like a little much, don’t you think?”

“Ma’am, I respectfully disagree. An hour of trauma is nothing compared to a lifetime of it, Mrs. Wheeler. That being said, if Mike would rather go to a home where he’s been rejected, cut off, cast out, and ostracized rather than to a home where he is loved and accepted…” Will looked down at Mike, directing the statement at him rather than his mother, “then that is his choice and I respect it.”

“Excuse me? How we run our house and raise our children is _none_ of your business,” Ted growled, narrowing his eyes at the thin man. “He’s _our_ son, he’s coming home where he belongs.”

Mike shrunk a little but Will held his ground. 

“He’s his own person, Mr. Wheeler. Forgive me, Mrs. Wheeler, you seem like a very kind person who loves her children, but Mr. Wheeler, you treat them… you talk about Mike like he’s a possession. _Your_ son is not an object for you to own and control, something for you to accept or reject whenever he does something that upsets you, or to be loved or rejected depending on your moods.”

Mike sat motionless, unable to speak. No one, not a single person talked to Ted Wheeler that way. Not his wife, not his colleagues, and certainly not an uppity little tattoo artist who was leading his son down a path of thorns, down a path of sin. Mike felt his hand twitch, wanting desperately to hold Will’s hand in his own. Ted sputtered in anger. 

“Who do you think you are? He’s _my son_ , my child and he’s coming home with us.”

“If that’s what he wants, Mr. Wheeler. But Mike’s not a child. He’s a grown man with his own thoughts and voice. If he wants to go with you, he can. Otherwise, I welcome your help in getting Mike and his bag to the car so he can go home and rest,” Will said, voice surprisingly steady considering the light trembling Mike could see in his hands. 

Karen looked the way Mike felt and he wondered if his expression mirrored his mother’s in this moment. Will, for his part, stood straight, face calm, voice soft and as respectful as it could be considering the words he spoke. Mike shifted as Ted turned to look at him instead of the defiant artist. 

“Michael, you’re coming home with us,” Ted said, bypassing Will to address someone easier to direct and control. 

Mike felt his hand twitch again and this time Will noticed. He let his fingers brush Mike’s, giving him silent support and strength. 

“Dad, I’m going home. With Will.”

“Michael, you will get into the car and come home with your mother and me and we will discuss this later.”

“N-no.”

“Excuse me?”

“No I’m… I’m going with Will. I- I appreciate you being here for me during this but… but it’s time for me to go home now. Our home,” he whispered, voice quavering a little but made stronger by Will’s hand on his. 

“Michael, I will not do this here. You will get into the car and we will _discuss this later_ , is that clear? Do you understand me?” Ted said, eyes locked with his son’s. 

“Mr. Wheeler, if Mike doesn’t want to go with you, he doesn’t have to. He’s an adult. You already withdrew your monetary support, there’s nothing more you can hold over his head to make him obey you. Now, if you’d like to help, please do. If not, get out of our way.”

Mike felt his jaw drop at that. How was soft spoken, gentle, timid, shy Will suddenly so assertive? How was he holding his ground so well when just months ago he shied away from eye contact with people he didn’t know and like? How had Will, who rolled over for everyone and their desires suddenly become the strong one? Mike took his hand and squeezed his fingers gently. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? Who are you to be speaking to me that way, about something that is _none_ of your business you… you…”

“Ted, stop… leave the boys alone.”

“Karen, be quiet. This is my son and I’m not going to let some little-”

“-Ted don’t you dare-”

“-Fairy take him away. He’s already caused enough damage and been a bad enough influence-”

“-Shut the fuck up. Just, just shut up, Dad,” Mike snapped, surprising everyone around him, including himself. 

Mike froze, horrified by what had just come out of his mouth as Ted’s gazed honed in on him again. 

“What did you just say to me?”

“I believe he told you to ‘shut the fuck up’”, Will said, trying to hide a smile. “Now, if you don’t mind and if you aren’t going to help,” Will said, motioning for Mike to move to the wheelchair. “We have to get going. Lots of rest and recuperation to get to.”

Mike moved to the chair and sat, face turned down to hide his expression while Karen kept a hand on her husband’s arm to keep him from approaching the pair. Will kept his head high as he pushed the wheelchair and Mike out of the room and to the elevator. Mike kept his eyes lowered until they were at the lobby door where Will stopped and locked the wheels in place. Mike finally looked up at Will, at his trembling hands and flushed face. 

“That was the craziest shit I’ve ever seen and I just got stabbed,” Mike joked, trying to tell Will he was proud of him without actually saying it. 

Will grinned a little. 

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted, still flushed. “I’ll bring the car around. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Hey, Will. Thank you for coming back…”

Will blinked at him, surprised. 

“I told you I would.”

“Still I… thank you. I love you.”

Will didn’t answer at first, just stood still, toying with the car keys while he considered his words. 

“I love you too, Mike. I’m furious with you and I haven’t… I haven’t forgiven you, not entirely yet. You broke my trust but… I still love you. So I’m going to get the car and we are going to go home and we are going to talk about this. I want the truth from you, okay? All of it.”

“Okay,” Mike agreed, feeling about three inches tall. 

Will nodded and turned to go retrieve the car. The ride back from the hospital was quiet, too quiet without the music and normal chatter they shared. Will helped Mike into the apartment, let him lean heavily against the smaller man as he led him through the door and down the hall, passed the place where Mike had been stabbed (the new carpet was cream, a stark difference from the grey that had absorbed so much of Mike’s blood) and into the bedroom. Mike looked down at the floor, at the spot he’d lay, just waiting to die. He let Will help lie him down and jerked a little when Little Mama hopped up next to him, butting her head against his hand, demanding affection. Mike stroked her light grey fur as he watched Will walk around the room to settle into the bed next to him. For a long while, neither spoke; only Little Mama’s purr echoed through the room. It was Will who was the first to speak. 

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Mike said, feeling deeply guilty that Will was offering to take care of him while he knew Will wanted to talk about the bombshell Mike had dropped on him. 

“Hey Will…”

“Yes?”

“I… I really am sorry. For not telling you. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Will rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, hands laced behind his head. 

“I know. And I think you mean it, that you were trying to protect me. But… after what I went through with Zach, you know, before… You can’t do that. You can’t lie to me. You can't hide things. I have to be able to trust you, Mike. I have to be able to make my own decisions about things and I can’t do that if you’re lying to me or withholding information or… or whatever. You can’t do that, you can’t keep that kind of stuff from me.”

“I know. I know and I’m so sorry. I just… I didn’t want you to know that he was doing that, that he was harassing me and invading your privacy like that,” Mike said, trying to explain himself once again. 

“I know. Just… You have to tell me things. You _have_ to.”

“What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything, anything you want,” Mike said, wishing he could take Will’s hand and beg for forgiveness, wishing he could give Will whatever it was that he wanted. 

Will looked over at him from the corner of his eye before redirecting his attention back to a spot on the ceiling. He looked calm but… so hurt. 

“What did you see? What did he send you? What… what is it that all those cops and lawyers and forensic specialists are gonna see?”

Mike forced down the lump in his throat, his desire to hold back and hide the details. Will wanted honesty, Mike owed him that. If the messages were used in any future legal case, Will would find out anyway. Mike had to do this, had to tell him in detail what was said, what he’d seen. Mike told him, watched every painful expression that crossed his lover’s face as he talked. He told Will everything, only stopping when Will asked him too so the other man could collect himself and his thoughts before continuing. He talked and talked and Will listened. When it was over, Will rolled onto his side, cradling his hands beneath his head like a pillow. 

“Are… are you okay? Are _we_ okay?” Mike asked, still not touching the other man, not until he was forgiven, not until he had permission to do so.

Will closed his honey brown eyes, considering the question. 

“I think… We will be. Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course, anything,” Mike agreed, trying to move, wanting to face the other man.

“Are you disgusted by me or something? Do you feel sorry for me?”

Mike paused, confused by the question.

“What?”

“The police, they said um… that the evidence suggested that you fought back. The smeared block from kicking, your nails were broken from… from gripping the walls. You fought back, even as injured as you were. You saw the video. I didn’t… I didn’t even try. I think, I think I… I know I wanted him to just kill me and get it over with. I’ve been passively waiting to die for years. Sometimes actively,” Will said as he squeezed his eyes closed tighter with a bitter laugh. “I’ve been adding to his ‘masterpiece’ for years, even after I was away from him. And you fought. If I’d been here instead of you I think I would have… Anyway, do you think I’m disgusting? And weak? And fragile? Is that way you didn’t say anything to me sooner?” Will asked, eyes still closed, voice a little shaky. 

Mike reached out, ignoring the pain and pushed himself closer to Will, still wanting to hold the other man but unsure. 

“No. No. No, not at all. Will, you’re amazing. He beat you down and you’re still here. You’re talented and brilliant and I love you. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to hurt you anymore than he already had and I knew that’s what he was trying to do. I wasn’t trying to coddle you and I don’t think you’re disgusting or fragile or… or anything like that. You’re strong, Will Byers.”

Next to him, Mike felt Will shaking, crying those silent tears he’d spent nearly a decade perfecting. 

“I’m disgusting. You almost died because of me.”

Mike clenched his jaw, angry. 

“Listen, I made a promise to you. You have to make one for me too, okay?” 

“What?” Will asked, voice tight from the tears Mike couldn’t hear. 

“You have to promise to stop saying things like that. They aren’t true. And hey, you’re shit talking my fiance when you do,” Mike laughed, feeling his stomach clench as he said the word ‘fiance’. 

Did Will still even want that? Did he still want Mike? He’d stood up to Ted, had brought Mike home and lay in bed with him but they hadn’t touched, hadn’t let himself be held or tried to hold Mike. The tall man held his breath as Will shifted and rolled over to him, tentatively rested his head next to Mike’s and breathed out. Mike pressed his nose into Will’s cheek, into the salt trail the tears had left there, beyond happy to have him so near again. 

“...Okay.”

They stayed that way a long time before Will moved again, twisting his neck to look at the freckled man next to him. 

“Hey, do you know what today is?”

Mike blinked, confused. 

“Saturday?”

“Christmas Eve. I know you’re not a Christian but um, I invited my mom and Bob over for dinner tomorrow. I hope that’s okay. Since we couldn’t make it to their place… Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Does your mom… does she hate me? Because of what my dad said…?” Mike asked, deeply afraid that Joyce would reject him now that she’d seen the kind of family he’d come from, the kind of _people_ he’d been raised by. 

“Are you kidding? No. Mom adores you. She’s at Steve's making latkes and sufganiot right now for tomorrow so I hope you’ll have an appetite. She doesn’t use traditional 'serving sizes'…”

Mike smiled and tucked his chin against Will’s hair, enjoying the feel of him pulled close. They could get through this. They could survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell folks, I know it's been a hot minute since I've updated anything but I swear I've been writing. I just haven't had time to type anything up between work and life, but I swear I haven't forgotten the stories or any of you. I'm just so damn tired all the time. I'm gonna go through my inbox and reply to comments as soon as I can. I appreciate each and every one of your so much. Anyway, comments and kudos are always appreciated. Take care of yourselves and be well.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: sexual content

Mike rolled onto his back and blinked into the dark room, his cell phone buzzing softly as his alarm startled him awake. It was quiet, totally still aside from his phone and the sounds of light, gentle breathing of the sleeping occupants he shared the bed with. Mike pulled away, annoyed when Little Mama bumped against him and nipped his nose to get his attention as he shut off the alarm. 

“Mama, stop,” he whispered, trying to shoo the feline away. 

She chirped at him and tried again to bite him (his fingers this time) as he nudged her aside. Mama never broke skin, she just wanted him to know she was awake and was hungry and that it was his job to feed her. Mike yawned and scratched her white chin, too tired to argue and she purred in satisfaction. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over to face Will who slept on. 

Instead of the sleeping artist, Mike was greeted by a soft puff of air from the wet nose that pressed against his cheek and a warm, wet tongue that licked his chin. 

“Cap, no. Jesus, your breath stinks,” he complained, pulling away from the dog who slapped it’s tail against the mattress, unoffended by his observation. 

Mike yawned again and sat up, glancing at his phone. Four thirty five. He had rounds in an hour and a half, he needed to get up and get going. Mike rolled away and climbed from the bed, every muscle and instinct begging him to get back in and sleep on. Mike patted his thigh, trying to draw the dog away from the bed without waking Will. 

“Cap, c’mere.”

The dog wagged it’s tail again, unconvinced. 

“Cap. _Now_.”

Will shifted, rolled onto his side and draped his arm around the dog and groaned, mumbling something under his breath. The dog wagged it’s tail harder and looked at Mike, a self satisfied expression on it’s canine face. Mike sighed and leaned over the dog to kiss Will’s brow, drawing another tired sound from his sleeping lover. 

“Hey, can you take Cap out when you get up?” he whispered, brushing Will’s hair away from his face. 

“Jean Luc and I are going to go for a run before work,” Will mumbled, not opening his eyes. “It’s fine, I got it.”

Mike drew away and ran a hand through his short curls while the dog blinked up at him, looking as though it was considering trying for another lick. Mike hadn’t even wanted a dog, not really. Too much maintenance required and his shifts at the hospital were so demanding, not to mention Will’s schedule could be as much as fourteen hour shifts six days a week. Will was a co-owner of Stranger Inks now, he had to cover for hourly employees in the original location (or beg borrow and steal them from the location downtown) to keep the place running when people needed time off. 

It didn’t seem fair to have a pack animal that wouldn't even be around it’s pack for up to twelve hours at a time. But when the half starved, mange riddled animal had started hanging around the neighborhood two years ago, Will had immediately felt compassion for the creature. He’d started leaving food and water out, even sitting for hours in the rain cooing and offering sliced up chicken breast to draw the dog into the garage and trap it. Mike had sat with him, not trusting the animal to not bite Will if the artist ever _did_ manage to get his hands on it. When Will finally did succeed in trapping it, he immediately took it to the vet for treatment, vaccinations, and neutering. 

It was the ugliest thing Mike had ever seen, malnourished and pathetic. It's only remaining patches of fur clung to its tail which it kept tucked between its legs while it cowered and cried whenever Will or Mike bathed it with the medicated shampoo. Mike couldn’t have hoped to guess the breed, but it wasn’t big; maybe thirty five pounds at the first vet visit. It had a mangled back leg and even though surgery might have relieved the pain, even Will agreed that amputation was the best route to take. Mike footed the bill and rolled his eyes at the dog who whimpered and bared its teeth at him every time he had to administer it’s medication. 

‘Yeah, you’re welcome.’

Will had endless patience for the animal, would sing and hum to it while he washed and pet the pathetic thing. It started to heal, eventually, fur growing back and it slowly began to gain weight. It was attached to Will at the hip and even slept under the Stranger Inks desk while he was at work (‘I can’t leave him alone all day, he gets anxious’). Erica had taken to keeping treats at the desk just for the dog and even Steve and Robin didn’t mind. 

‘Well, it’s not trained in german to attack on command, but we can fix that, richtig, meine liebe?’

It took a few months for Mike to even realize the dog was now a permanent member of his family, not just something for Will to rehabilitate and adopt out. It was right around the time the dog had started sleeping in his bed with them and Will started buying it sweaters (‘Jean Luc gets cold’) that Mike realized the dog was here to stay. Once the fur grew back, it was actually a handsome animal, maybe a collie or a shepherd mix of some kind, and it loved Will which endeared it to Mike immensely. Even without its back left leg, the dog was able to keep up with all Will’s runs, staying near the small artist without ever even needing a leash. Mike never complained, he actually felt a little better knowing the dog was there, guarding Will while he did overnights at the hospital. 

Mike patted it’s head and Jean Luc licked his hand again before settling back in to doze with it’s master, happy and fat and tired now; a drastic change from the frightened and starving thing it had once been. Mike stretched, cracked his back and looked down at Little Mama who stared up at him expectantly, yellow eyes shining. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

The cat followed Mike down the hall, circled him like a shark while he retrieved a tin of food and meowed loudly while he poured it into her bowl. Mike scratched her behind the ears again and made his way back to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes and get ready to shower. 

“What time are you going to pick me up?” Will mumbled, still half asleep as he peeked from beneath his arm to watch Mike get ready. 

“Two. The parole hearing is at three,” Mike said, glancing down at the other man. “You feel up to that?” he asked, unsure how well Will would react to being reminded of Zach again, how well he’d react to having to tell his story to strangers _again_.

Will ruffled the dog’s fur and moved away. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his arms high above his head with a tired moan. 

“I’m fine. You gonna shower?” he asked, dismissing Mike’s concerned tone; he was used to it by now, telling the story and answering questions. 

Any shyness or aversion to speaking about it had been (unwillingly) stripped away during the trial. Will was numb to it all by now.

“Yeah.”

“Can I join you?”

“Of course,” Mike agreed, grining. 

They kissed, massaged soap over each other, Will taking special care to not apply too much pressure over Mike’s scars. Even though they were fully healed by now, the one over his rib still hurt from time to time from where the knife had caught and nicked the bones. Will kissed the spot, the one on Mike’s back that marred a flower Will had tattooed there, distorted it. Will had offered to fix it, the tattoo, but Mike had declined. 

‘Why? Now we match.’

Mike ate at Will’s throat, gripped his cock, slick with soap and stroked him while Will worked conditioner into Mike’s hair, his finger lost in the taller man’s dark mane. 

It reminded Mike of the night before their wedding, when neither of them could sleep because of their nerves. They fell into the shower together, touching and kissing, pre wedding jitters making them both sloppy. 

Mike kissed Will’s shoulder, the faded scar there and then his neck where the scar that once marred it was now totally gone. All that vitamin e oil must have worked. Mike lifted the smaller man gently beneath the arms, letting Will’s elbows rest against his shoulder for balance and shut off the water. He carried the lithe artist to the sink, to the vanity and leaned Will over, kissing his spine from skull to base. 

Mike remembered how nervous he’d felt, how afraid he’d been that day. His mother held his hand, pulled him close and whispered how proud she was of him. Ted wasn’t there; Karen had served him with divorce papers two months before the wedding ceremony when he’d refused to go to the event he referred to as ‘that affront to God’. Mike didn’t mind; between Karen, Joyce, and Bob, Mike had all the parental support he needed. 

Mike kissed Will again, just below the hairline and held himself in hand, pressing slowly into the warmth and heat of the artist's body. Will moaned beneath him and looked up to watch Mike in the mirror when their bodies joined. Mike held his gaze and reached around, stroking the other man firmly. 

Mike remembered the toasts, the champagne, and the morello cherry tequila sours. He remembered how people had congratulated him, even Jonathan stopped to shake his hand. Mike had held Will’s hand beneath the table and listened to people talk, tell stories about the two of them, and drank toast after toast until he was fuzzy and light and smiling like a fool. He’d been surprised when Will broke away from the wedding party to dance with Nancy, but the two had become close during Mike’s recovery and it was sweet to watch them stumble clumsily around the dance floor, both laughing in embarrassment. Will danced with Mike’s sister for only a moment before he was intercepted by his brother who asked to cut in. It was confusing and even a little alarming how well Nancy and Jonathan hit it off and Mike suspected it had been Will’s plan in the first place. He was less surprised when Will told him Jonathan was flying in from New York more frequently and Nancy started posting pictures of herself in Central Park (most of the photos looked professional, there was no way she’d taken them herself).

Mike bent his head and moaned when Will twisted, wrapped an arm around Mike’s neck and arched his back, groaning. Mike wrapped his own arm around Will’s thin chest and held him firm, pressing their bodies close together as they moved against each other in the steam filled room. 

Mike danced late into the night with his mother, with Joyce, Robin, El, Max, Nancy, Steve, even with Holly, and finally with Will. He could have danced with Will until the stars all burned out and everything was dust, just leaving Will as the only shining thing left in existence. 

‘I love you, I fucking love you,’ Will had whispered, kissing Mike’s jaw as the reception wound down and guests departed, calling out congratulations as they left. 

Mike bumped his head against Will’s back, his shoulder and shuddered, breath coming in pants. Will leaned into the touch, gripped Mike’s hair as he bit down on the meat of Mike’s arm that was wrapped around his chest. Mike groaned at the feel and bucked roughly, losing his rhythm. He stroked Will harder, thumbed his piercing and ran a hand across his nipples, playing with one of the rings. Will hissed and released the hold his teeth had on Mike’s arm and twitched against him, orgasming into the taller man’s hand. Mike followed quickly and twisted his head to kiss Will’s mouth as he did. 

“I love you, Will. I love you.”

Will chuckled and opened his honey brown eyes, still pressed into his husband’s chest, letting the other man support his weight. 

“I love you too, Dr. Wheeler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, this is it. I really enjoyed writing this story and I’ve really enjoyed talking to all of you that have left me such kind and encouraging messages these past few months. I know for a fact that if you hadn’t spoken up and given me encouragement, I never would have completed this story. Something that started over quarantine as a way to keep myself entertained while I was out of work had ended up meaning so much to me and I thank you all for helping me complete this project. 
> 
> Thank you, all of you, who have read, responded, or even just followed along silently. You are all amazing and I wish only good things for you. 
> 
> Take care and be well, and I’ll see you in the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I know it's like slamming on the breaks after writing the Heavy in Your Arms series, but I just needed a break and some time to write a slow burn. Any kudos or comments are appreciated. I'll make sure to update the tags and warnings as the story progresses into darker and more mature themes. Hope to see you again, at the next chapter.


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